I forget what a Starry Starry Night (Courtesy: Van Gogh) looks like. I remember climbing up to my terrace as a child, lying on my back and trying to read the hidden stories behind those constellations using a keychain telescope. I don’t look at the stars anymore and I have been seeing the morning moon for years now.
Some things I have missed all these nights
- Night star gaze
- stomach grumble
- Bedtime prayers
- Goodnight calls
- Mom’s rhythmic pat – pat on the back
- Dad’s slow breathing from the bed nearby
- Which invariably led to a mother’s womb security
- That hand that I could always hold when I wake up to a nightmare
- The happiness that the unforeseen gush of wind (ushered in by the light curtains) brought in
- Bedtime stories
- That book meant to be read at bedtime, but will never reach the second page
Those were the nights !
