Ahora

I met with my lecturer just recently and we talked about writing. She said that the problem with this generation’s writers is that they lack the ability to describe. So I shall make this an attempt to practice my descriptive skills.

I am sitting at the top floor of the house. The fan is not moving due to the momentary electric cut off. My sliding door is open to catch any breeze that might pass by. The flimsy yellow curtain flutters ever so slightly every time a hint of a breeze tries to lift it. The sun is hidden behind a cloud of haze; making the sky look dull and subdued; tricking its audience because in truth, it is far too bright for the eye to perceive. I am sitting with my legs crossed. Sweat has begun to build up at the back of my knees. The lotion I put on this morning is helping the sweat lubricate my thighs and calves, making it almost impossible to maintain this sitting position. My chair creaked at I shifted my weight slightly to the left.

I am sitting too near to the table. My arms are bended at a 90 degree angle forming a diamond shape between me and my laptop. The room is filled with the sound of “tik-tak” as I typed away trying my best to describe the atmosphere. Occasionally punctuated by the sound of silence as I racked my brain trying to think of other ways I could manipulate my words to make them draw a clearer picture.

Stenches have started rising from the heat present in the room. Most dominant being the stench of stale milk. This morning my baby girl threw up milk all over me and with milk and saliva still trickling down her lower lips and chin, she smiles up at me, a beautiful angelic smile made to take away all pain, agony, sleepless nights and frustrations of motherhood. I can’t help but feel my facial muscle contracting to form a smile. I have not yet regretted being a mother so soon. Many said I will. We shall see.

Outside, it has started to rain.