It was an early summer morning. Enthusiastic chirping simply brought some life into the deserted station. There was the occasional hum of tractors that could be heard at a distance, barely audible in the cacophony of his thoughts. He had just arrived there last night carrying three things with him. A small backpack, a gleeful smile, and a new way to look at life.

This was an unplanned trip, just like his breakdown was. It was a journey on the inside as much as it was outside. That was the magic he had witnessed. As things around him moved, things within moved too. He wondered when the next train would arrive as the rising sun brought a wide grin to his face. There was always something spiritual about the silent cogs of nature.

As the morning proceeded, he simply sat and observed. He had spotted wildlife, well, at least what he thought of them as. Little dots in the horizon. Running, stopping, giggling, screaming. They were the free ones. That excitement, infectious. That energy, refreshing. Mondays did that to them. They don’t have to help their parents man-waiting-under-tree1all day long like the boring Sundays. Freshly free from captivity. Relishing their freedom.

As they disappeared in the horizon, he thought about the office desk he was supposed to be at in a couple of hours, laughing defiantly at it’s disappointment. Not today, he kept thinking as the morning pleasantries started to disappear. He didn’t even notice when the small drop of sweat trickling down his forehead turned into an uncontrollable stream as he looked for a tree to ward off his discomfort.

As he made his way to his savior, he realised how long it had been since he had done such a simple thing. His younger self dashed right past him and climbed up the lowest branch. His lazy steps, encouraged by the display, turned into a wild dash. Out of breath, he collapsed in the shade. The sound of his pumping chest only being accompanied by his breathless laughter.

He was free.
At last.


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