Sunday Morning

It was Sunday morning. I sat on the sofa in my living room, staring at the front and looking at nothing. My mind suspended, thinking of nothing. The flow of time stopped, as if the tide inside me receding, out of my body, washing away troubling thoughts and worries. Everything at peace.

I needed this. Humans worked too hard and thought much so our life time was cut in half of our genetic life expectancy. Looking at other creatures in this world, they work only when they need to eat, spend most of their lives doing nothing and thinking of nothing. Our humans had become too smart for our own good, not realizing our insignificance in this universe. We always thought we needed to do something, to make a difference. It was really nothing, making no difference whatsoever.

Gradually I came out of hibernation and my gaze fixed on the toy box. My mind started to churn again. Toys filled the box and a baby doll was on top of all. It was a Christmas gift from her aunt when Lucy was 5 years old. She used to dress her up, with a pacifier in mouth, and pushed her in a baby stroller around the house, playing make-believe.

The doll was discarded, laying on top of toy cars naked. Her face looked menacing with a smear of black across the cheek. Her leg bent sideways with bite marks and her hair, once a beautiful braid, now a messed up bird nest with dog drool. Even the dog had abandoned his once favorite chewing toy. It should have gone to the recycle bin but the wife still wanted to donate to some poor kids in the third-world.

Playing Fortnite on Xbox, Lucy had grown up fast. Watching from behind, I was amazed at her killing skills with the assault rifles on the screen. She was all grown up. Where did all those years go? I led out a big sigh, not only at how fast she was growing up, also at how quickly I was getting old. Again, this too-smart-for-my-own-good human trait urged me to do something, something meaningful, or something really meaningless.

I stood up, walked to my desk, opened the laptop and continued my memoir chapter 120. I hit the keys slow and heavy, words coming onto the screen:

“It was Sunday morning. I sat on the sofa in my living room, staring at the front and looking at nothing……”