He was home on time. When he reached home, it was all dark, the lights were all off, and it was dimly lit by the streetlights and the neighbours lights. So the first thing he did was switch on all the lights and put his bag down, but then he immediately turned them off. Then he went to the drawer in the hall and took out the flashlight and started moving through the home. He put his bag on the table, looked into the fridge. There was nothing in it. He had expected a lot more to happen, and definitely not a reception like this.
He decided to cook himself something, but then thought perhaps he should keep his hunger. And in this decision between staying hungry or starting to cook, he could not find an answer. He finally just microwaved the leftover bun from the night before and ate it with water. He wanted to go outside and just spend the night there. But then he simply came to the TV lounge and sat there.
He brought the water with him and turned on the TV but kept the volume low. The immediate glow from the screen stung his eyes, but he became accustomed to it in the dark. Then he lowered the volume so that the newcomers won’t hear him. And he just sat there, spent the next hour watching TV and tried not to think about anything.
It was a difficult year, one difficult time period. If not difficult, it was actually not smooth, but he was glad that he was able to make it through. Somehow the boat was able to carry his journey through the sea, and is continuing. And so even amidst all of this, he has a smile on his face.
The view from here would be just one young boy sitting in the dark watching something on the screen, but his mind is really all over the place. But even being in so many different places at the same time, and thinking about so many things at the same time, he’s just perhaps content with the fact that he’s here in whatever state it is.
And that’s when after almost an hour, all of them came. A knock happened on the door and everybody is standing outside. He could hear their chatter, but he’s supposed to not show that he can hear them. So he stays silent. Waits for two minutes, because he has to pretend that he wasn’t expecting them and it was a surprise. Though they were the ones who should have been in the house, and he should have been the one knocking. They should have been at opposite ends. But the positions have been switched.
Now they’re all chattering, murmuring something about not being exactly the way it should have been, or just being quiet, he might hear them. They should have planned it better, or they should have just left their homes earlier. But it’s okay, he said to himself, and he just turns off the TV, slowly steps toward the door, opens it, and there they are. All of them, standing, smiling, clapping for him, balloons in their hands, gifts in their shopping bags, and confetti pouring down on him.
And he just smiles back at them, because it is as it is, and perhaps it is good. So he steps back to make way so they all can come in. He just does not ask them why they were not here at the right time. He does not even show them how it could have been because that’s how he has been and that’s how they have been and that’s how it has always been. For him. For them. For the situation. They all enter in at the same time. They were supposed to be here earlier.
They were all late for his birthday.
