The one who wished me happiness

I am sitting here in the most forlorn corner of a nice cafe. It's a really nice cafe, the ambiance is bright, so I don't know how I was able to make this corner, where I'm unenergetically sipping my coffee, look like it's not part of the lovely Sunday morning. 

I'm an old man, fortunately I'm not poor. I can afford whatever luxury I might want. But at this age, there's something missing...

Overlooking the park just outside the cafe, I saw a young girl. A pretty girl perhaps 9 years old. She's not wearing a pretty dress for a Sunday mass. She wore shorts with pocket and a graffiti blouse matched with a green sneakers, what a statement! She was running around, laughing, playing, her parents were watching her while sitting in a nearby bench. 

The young girl was full of so much life and happiness. Her life is simple. 

I thought, at this age, I should have a granddaughter like her. But as forlorn as this cafe corner, I am a lone man. And I remembered the girl, years ago, that always wished me happiness. 

When I was in my teenage years, she said to me, "If you love someone, she must make you happy."  

When I was in my 20s, she said to me, "Look for a job that will make you happy."

When I was entering my prime, she said to me, "You need to search for your own happiness. If you can't find it, then make it." 

She always wished me happiness. 

Now, I wished that I listened to her. That I should have seen the kindness in her eyes and that I should have felt the hope in her touch. If I only did, maybe, just maybe, her wish could have come true. I think I would be happy if I only took her in my arms. And I'm quite sure, even if she did not wish for her happiness, it would make her happy too.

And then it would be like the universe conspiring things. Untangling the mesh of unending loneliness. But all this talk is like a young silly romantic girl fresh from a heart break. I'm an old man.

But I can't help it. I was a freaking stupid man. I didn't know what would make me happy. I was continuously aspiring for things, thinking and believing they were the things that would make me happy. But I was never happy. I was always messed up in the end. But she was there. It's as if she knew I was heading self-destruction. 

And know what, she would still tell me that I will be happy in spite of it all. I never believed her. But I wished I did.

I should have believed in her affection. I should have realized how beautiful her laugh is. I should have delighted in her childish spirit. I should have found happiness in her.

I wonder if I hurt her, the one who always wished me happiness while I go to the opposite end swallowing sadness? 

Look at me now? Hah! Pity. If I see her right now, maybe she'll have lines under her eyes and in her forehead too. But I'm quite sure that when she smile, her eyes would still smile and her wrinkled face would still bring a ray of sunlight.

A Tale of a Fly

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.The wings of a fly keep on making. The whirrs signify the flight of the fly. The insect, with its pair of eyes that bulge, has a sight that sees plenty. And the wings carries it to anywhere it sees.

Humans think of the fly as a lowly insect. But the fly doesn't mind. It sees food on the dining table, it lands on it. It sees food on the fridge, on the sink, on the kitchen wares, on the trash bins, on the floor, on the dirt on the soil, on the decayed, on anything. Food is anything. And the fly, greedily touches everything.

There's not a single trouble about it. The fly can have any food it sees. The bulging eyes and the flapping wings. It can get anywhere it wants much to humans' annoyance. But the fly, it never minds. Sometimes, it will fly near people's ear as if to annoy them all the more. It will let them hear the buzzing of its wings.

The tiny fly, it's impudent you see. It does what it wants. They are one of the filthy species among races that thrives in the world. But unrelenting, the fly keeps on flying. It lands here, will fly there, lands some where else, and then flies again.

Oh such freedom the fly has.