My days

Courage. Such a powerful word.

Different levels we use in different situations. I just wish that I could always wield the one I use with kids. It is so easy to tell them, without misgivings, things that should and should not be done.

How do we confront a friend who has chosen a path you know is not correct? How do you tell someone that you have had enough? How do you tell an elder person that he must change or else? How do you deal with your own hesitations and fears?

It is not a pill I could easily take. It must grow. Like a seed sprouting from the ground, it needs the hand of the Creator. But to lay claim to the nurturing rays of the sun, the sprouting plant must first rise above the ground.

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It was the drop of water that caused the spill. The straw that broke that camel’s back. The end of the road.

And so I took the plunge. But not without a vest. Otherwise I would have drowned in my own tears.

The lap is not yet finished though. I need to reach the edge of the pool or the shores of the sea. To safety. Or what I think is my haven. I wonder where this swim would bring me.

- - - - - -

There are red days and yellow days. Always. In each and every month I encounter. The yellow days are sunny, bringing me sunshine smiles and tinkling laughter. The red days are hard. You travel down below. Can be for scientific explanations. Or for current situations. Sometimes, you don’t even know for what reasons.

I just thank God there aren’t too many red days. The yellows ones usually topple them.