The apartment I’ve got to live is pretty big for two persons to be honest. Everyday, it takes minimum 20 minutes just to sweep the floor and another 30 minutes to clean the messes and dust. But I manage to do it anyway.
It was just another morning when it’s 10 am on the clock, I was about to make tea and breakfast and suddenly a bottle fixed my attention to it. A simple moneyplant bottle.
I couldn’t make tea, neither could manage to make breakfast. The moneyplant hanging on the wall captivated all of my consciousness for God knows how much time.
Thousands of thoughts transcended from here and there from my brain and made me feel restless. What was I thinking after all? What was that thought that made my morning a complete maze?.
I left home without saying anything much. I got a job and thought okay, now it’s the time I should pull myself to something constructive. I never enjoyed talking to my parents about my ideological stands, beliefs and dreams. Is it important to add that the reason I never enjoyed discussing with my parents because the chance of understanding all those things are very unlikely. So, I didn’t give a second thought before leaving my home for good.
Here’s one person who almost understands me. The person I love the most. Yeah, the most. My love for her is so intense that sometimes I contemplate about situations like dying without her, and it makes me paranoid.
Am I afraid of dying? Yeah. Everyone of us kind of do. Because dying means missing out the opportunity of being with your loved ones, watching them smile because of you. In my family, we never learnt how to express love to each other. So, from my family legacy, I never told my sister how much I actually love her and what a living mess I am without being heard from her in a while.
Sooner or later, I got to realise it’s never late to knock yourself out. I should let my close ones know how much I love them and miss being with them. I am nothing but a baggage of old memories. Whenever life gets tough on me, I walk on the memory lane. The memories of my loving family is my personal salvation. Sometimes, I wish I just could shout out loud saying I never intended to hurt any of you. We just never tried to understand each other. But I never open up myself. Messages like, “I am sorry, Ammu” lived peacefully in drafts sections for years and never reached sent items.
Now, I miss everything that someone can call a family. I miss morning tea, I miss eating lunch together, I miss evening nap, I miss my books, I miss messing up with lil sister for no good reason, I miss waiting for Abbu’s arrival from office, I miss having books from Abbu. I miss peko, our parrot. I miss watching TV, together. I miss everything.
My father was a great plant lover. Since childhood, we grew up witnessing his fascination for trees and flower. Heredity allowed me to love plants as well. That’s one of the profound gifts I’ve inherited from my father. So naturally, my living room is full of plants. I have an abundance of moneyplants thriving gracefully. It’s not like my little sibling doesn’t known about it.
We lived in a very small apartment that sometimes I felt so small of us when relatives came to visit us most often. Nevertheless, I was happy. I never felt sad or anything. Rather, I was down to earth for having everything we need. Our living space was small but the space of our heart was immense. Our parents have always welcomed any guests with a warm hospitality — so having a small apartment wasn’t a big deal anyway.
My sister is vocal at every point. Any kind of inconvenience would get on her nerves and needless to say we were terrified by her wrath. But once again, everything felt alright. Everything was perfect. There was ups and downs, yet we had reasons to sleep peacefully at night.
My little sister has a heart bigger than Milkyway Galaxy. Here, she keeps all her good qualities hidden. Very few can come close to them or experience them, directly. When I visited her last time, she gave us that “Moneyplant” bottle. She had this only one last bottle of Moneplant, yet she delightfully gave us that. For me, it’s the most expensive and extra ordinary gift I’ve ever received from her or anyone.
Every piece of my memories comes together chronologically whenever I look at that Moneyplant Bottle. Everything I left behind, everyone I’ve hurt, every harsh words to my mother, every laughter we shared as a family, every second of living the most amazing upbringing — I can reminisce just looking at one bottle.
I love you, Ishru.
I hope you already know that.