The Story of Home Alone

The click of the key and the opening door with nobody at home to welcome her isn’t necessarily a sad story. The truth is : most of us are conditioned to believe it is. Just like the dawn of the 30s is by default not associated with the sheath of wisdom that shall make navigating life much easier than it was. This is more about her story, sad or not is upto you : the reader to interpret. She means to just put her life in notes plainly through words.

The door is ajar and the lights are switched on and while she places the key at the keyholder, the door closes with a thud. Startled, she looks around and her eyes get fixated at that blot on the tiled floor . She spent ten minutes of the day’s beautiful morning mopping the floor to come back to a clean house and this looks surprising. She smiles thinking of what her parents would say, had they been there and starts cleaning up. Thoughts wander away to the stories of homeland and the evenings when she hated staying at home. Parents were glued to the News channel on TV while her sibling spent time surfing the net.She had no clue then of what could be done to break the monotony of doing nothing after school and once homework was finished.

The blot is gone and she walks to the bedroom and the mirror stops her for a moment. She pauses and looks at herself , then changes her clothes and washes her face. The hair is pulled back into a comfortable knot and she strides towards the fridge. With the whiff of spinach and cottage cheese emanating with the opened refrigerator door, she looks around and allocates the weekend for a must-do chore of cleaning the fridge. She chops the spinach and cooks it with the sprouts and cottage cheese but she is careful to not use extra pans. Washing utensils isn’t what she enjoys a lot, particularly when water supply wasn’t as regular as it had been at home when she grew up and still parents had put her into a practice of taking care to not waste water unnecessarily.

That evening, her evening tea with a colleague was about housemaids and how essential they were in a city as big as this. She had not agreed and she had been asked why as obvious that was. She wasn’t too convinced with her own answer but she had let the conversation pass to the need for roommates when staying alone, but it had stayed in her mind. While she washed her utensils, she was weary of not wasting water as much as she was with not using extra utensils just for convenience while cooking, lest she should have to clean them all. She didn’t like making used utensils wait at the sink to be cleaned. It saved water, time and her effort too.

She heard a ruffle at the door and saw a paper get slipped through the gap between the door and it’s frame.Electricity bill had to be paid by tomorrow and that would be the first thing she would do, after sending across the presentation to her reporting manager scheduled for tomorrow. Her salad was ready and the kitchen was clean. She could watch some netflix and have her salad but before that, a whatsapp video call with parents would just be the right thing to do. Ten minutes later, the series keeps her hooked until her eyes and mind start to signal her to sleep. Tomorrow would be a busy day and today had to close well. A quick jump out of the bed to kitchen with the clean bowl placed at the rack, she picks up the toothpaste and the brush and starts to brush. As she does that, slowly walking towards the window, she looks out through it at the expressway still busy managing the endless line of vehicles passing over it. It looked like a mighty parent were holding out an arm for the over energetic infants to crawl all over it.She smiled at her absurd imagination. An airplane that has just taken off from the airport nearby flies over and she washes her face and cleans up. Back in the bed with her kindle, she reads five pages of the book as she had thought and keeps it aside.

She lies down on her back with closed eyes and her mind wanders to that conversation at the evening tea with the colleague. A roommate was a must for happy mind and so was a househelp, the colleague had said and she had disagreed but could not reason it out. She thought about it and remembered everything she had done after coming back home. Her memories , thoughts , actions and her time : all had been hers . She had visited the past, lived the present, and thought of the future. She had been nostalgic, she had been aware of her present and she had been sensible to tomorrow. Above this all, the whole day had been hers. She had reasoned it out finally. The click of the key and the opening door with nobody at home to welcome her isn’t necessarily a sad story. The truth is: most of us are conditioned to believe it is.