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A grip of fist

21..  20... 19... 1. Anybody would find a dainty looking girl in the middle of a park under a tree counting from 21 and end at 1 only to start again at 21 atleast a bit surreal. But the kid sitting besides me was not. He knew it.

"You are stupid! You have to count to 30. You cannot just start from 21."

I tried to humor him,"And why is it?"
"Haven't you ever been to school?", he retorted, "Is 21 your favourite because mine is 1."

"No I was dwelling in possibility", how could a kindergartner understand what I was saying. I wanted to not disappoint the child but nothing else was on or in my mind.

He squelched.

I hurried to try to explain what I meant,"I let them go to see what stayed. And I continue to wait."
"Like birds?", he was quick.

The simile applied. But no it was not.

The birds are freed with no expectation. I have all my expectations rolled up in the tight grip of my fist with the only hope that counting would stop. 21 days it has been since I have been me. It is liberating but lonely. The world seems different. No known figure comes around here.

The only choice that remains is I build a new world. A new one after that. Another one after that till my time runs out or I reach the end of the world.

"What if the space runs out before time?", a chill went through my body. I saw he had started making faces. I was lost in my thoughts all this time. I smiled.

"Not birds sweetie. I am just looking for a friend! Would you be my friend?", and my fingers were clinched tighter than I ever felt before.

-----------------------
Based on the quote - " I dwell in possibility " - Emily Dickinson. 



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