Am grown up

I spent the whole evening shedding tears on the sofa. By dinner, I had a blocked nose, a ghastly red swollen face.....and as I looked at myself in the mirror, I felt amused. I didn't know I could look comical. Anger followed grief. So I resorted to ruthless chopping of the left over half a cabbage,making sure that I was audible from the other room, where my husband was working on his laptop, carefully avoiding my mood. But I needed attention, consoling and I needed to hear those 'not so true' words. And so I kept doing my best, at what I was doing. Chopping loudly. As my anger hit the chopping board, I vindictively dreamt of all the revenge I could take in following interactions with my enemies. And I felt quite overjoyed at the prospect of the same. I realised my chopping had become slower and softer. This was not a good sign. Frustration followed anger. As I covered the burnt cabbage with the lid, I felt heavy. And I felt terribly homesick. And bitter. At everyone. The wind blew the window open.....the autumn wind in London is usually chilly and bitter....but strangely this was a sweet one....reminded me of home.....An old lady was walking , lone....a robin flew off....the girl in the window happily chatted on the phone....the wind brought in the aroma of delicious pasta....and once again I heard dad's voice.....the reassuring, confident voice.....the voice that could make me feel good even in the worst situations....'Yes, Dad...I'll be fine.'

'Dinner is ready. Coming, hubby?'