Birth From The Waist

Chapter 13

The glorious sun radiates through my window, I sit up to bask in its warmth, standing up I walk to the window of my bedroom looking out, what a view. The green luscious trees consisting of ferns and other evergreens were vibrant beneath the golden rays of sun, sitting perfectly under the vivid blue sky emblazed with fluffy white cloud, a perfect Sunday summer day. I look onto the busy highway, cars loaded with families on their way to picnics, turbocharged cars speeding swiftly down the road, shops and local business opening for the day, and the best of them yet, was seeing dad on the front lawn watering his plants, I smile, typical dad, he would pass on anything except watering his special gardens of herbs. I open my window, the immaculate breeze of air comes in blowing my hair in the process, you know, the feeling you get as if you standing on top of the whole world and that your infallible, queen or a deity and that the earth is yours for your taking, this is what it feels like standing from the second floor looking down and feeling the vibrancy of this magical season, I felt free but connected, but most importantly I felt full.

"Typical dad, always watering his precious plants", I shout from the window.

"Well good morning beautiful, very lovely day today, why not water these plants", he replies retaliating to my comment.

"Me and mum should change your name to green fingers, what do you think?" I ask.

"I think that you two are exaggerating, all men love to garden it's just that I have tendency to overdo it, a bit," he reveals.

"A bit?" I question astonished.

He looks up and laughs.

"I'll leave you to it", I articulate closing the window.

I look at my hand at that unfamiliar mark, that itch and that sting. One of the negative impacts of summer and the downside of leaving in Western Suburbia near water, mosquitoes! I hated them I thought as I madly itched the side of my right wrist.

I walked down the stairs to the lower level of the house, there mum gracefully in the kitchen making coffee for her and dad. "Morning."

"Morning mummy", she greets, her smile warm and gentle.

"What you up to", I ask curious.

"Just making some coffee for dad and I. Want me to make you some breakfast," she asks.

I decline her offer thanking her in the process. "Mother, I'm a big girl now, I need to be more independent", I speak mockingly in a fake British accent.

She laughs rolling her eyes in the process. She places the coffee cups on tray and walks outside to dad, a small patio area they made for sitting down and relaxing, a favourite for them to sit in on days like this.

I stretch my body reflecting on the warm sun, they ways it was perplexed into different rays due to the kitchen glass refraction. My modern kitchen shone bright, the kitchen of heaven as Yara described it. "Yara", I whisper. I wonder what happened to her last night, I'll give it a few hours by the time she call and updates me on the most minute and undesirable details of gossip.

Slowly taking a bowl from the upper cupboards and filling it will Rice Bubbles, a delicate breakfast item I have since devoured from my primitive age. Sitting down on the bar stool I sit toward the rays of sun, absorbing the heat.

I peacefully eat, slowly scooping milk and rice grains placing them into my mouth and grinding them against my teeth. Memories of last night hit me, about Andrew and our 'date'. I swallow hard, bits of un-chewed cereal grazing the back of my throats.

Andrew, there wasn't a word to describe him, he was amazing. I don't know why I chose him, I guess I just was sick of all rejecting all guys that I thought I'd give him a chance. But what a chance it was, if I had given another person the shot would he have been like Andrew, sweet, compassionate, humorous, religious, good looking and oh so masculine. Probably not, it was utter fate.