I like to sit on a rock beside our house in the early hours of the day when everywhere is quiet and cool. The crickets would be chirping away, a few fireflies would fly by but other than those, everything would be calm.
The breeze blowing gently would hit me with such freshness that I would start craving that feeling even during the day.
I like it here. It is home but, more importantly, it is my escape. When the city life gets overwhelming I come here and I always find reprieve listening to nothing but nature and my thoughts.
I would spend the first few days just detaching from the noise. Social media, work, messages, calls, and my oversaturated mind. I would shut everything off and just breathe.
My family reserved this countryside home for this purpose – to reconnect with our inner self. It’s funny how after over 20 years, memories of my childhood come back like it was all just yesterday whenever I walk in. And I usually immerse myself into that feeling.
I would follow the memories of my younger self running from one room to the other with my brothers, playing a game. Or into the kitchen, obediently subjected to the aroma of something cooking. Or into the garden where my father would be watering the plants in the evenings.
My father was a teacher and a true believer in God. He lived his whole life just to do what he believed God would want him to do. I admired that devotion and single-mindedness in him.
He was the one who taught me the importance of silence.
When I was fifteen, I woke up early one morning during the long vacation. When I found out it was just 4:30, I tried going back to sleep but couldn’t. I tried reading a novel but found my mind was fixed on a girl that ended up being my first love.
I thought about calling her that early but wondered if she’d be up already, especially since we spoke till past 1 that morning. I went to the window and looked out. A part of me wondered if she was looking out too and thinking about me.
That was when I saw him, my dad. He was sitting on the rock. It was dark but I would recognise my father anywhere just by his outline or silhouette.
Curious, I got dressed and went out to meet him. When he saw me, he smiled and patted the space next to him. Without saying a word I climbed the low rock and sat down beside him.
We sat and just watched. I stole glances at my father’s face and saw calmness written all over it. He was at peace. Like nothing had ever bothered him or could ever. But for me, my mind was all over the place. I kept thinking about the girl, my mom, my brothers, my dad. I wondered why my dad was sitting there doing nothing.
Then he nudged me. I looked at him and he pointed to the sky. I looked up and saw nothing but he kept pointing. Soon enough, the sky started to brighten up on the horizon.
I looked at my father again, and he was smiling. He put his arm around me and we watched as everything began to light up; as the sun’s orange glow began to spread across the horizon.
My father squeezed my shoulder gently and said, “This is the most beautiful thing you’ll see today.”
I wondered why the sunrise meant so much to him and as if he could read my mind, he added, “Not for anything, son. Just for the beauty of God’s work. Common, let’s go inside.”
I think about the orange horizon every now and then. And I think about my father when I come home. I think about peace and quiet, and I feel a genuine smile settle on my face.
