And then I blinked my eyes once, only once.

Yesterday was a lazy day for me. I woke up, not early enough to go on a jog. So I went to my window as usual, following my daily ritual of looking far out of the window the first thing every morning. The beauty of the valley has never stopped mesmerizing me. I'm accompanied by birds which sit outside my window often, only to flutter away as I set my curtains aside to return after a while. I like to think that they feel safe and happy around me. I like to think that they fly away to visit the people I love, to spread my joy, my peace, my morning sunshine to them. I like to wait for them again the next morning, to receive the love, the smiles, and the jar of hearts they send back for me.

Anyway, I'm wishing that the birds choose my window for their nest this time. I think I should keep my shoe-box outside as an invitation, probably with some hay. Hmmm... So as I stared out of my window at the clear dawn and the rising sun, I regretted not having woken up earlier. I promised myself to make sure that I rise before the sun more often. Unwillingly, I left the window to get back to my daily chores after pulling the curtains down again, for the sun here can be really harsh and I'm absolutely not a sunny person. I'm more of a cloud-lover! Well... A hot bath, a little meditation, and I was as fresh as a fully bloomed flower with just a single dew drop on it's outermost petal.

I went over to my study table, which lies just next to the window, and occupied my chair, all set to log in to the virtual world. I pulled aside the curtains again, only to be completely dumbfounded. I couldn't see a thing outside. Absolute zilch visibility. I rubbed my eyes and looked out again, pushed my chair back, and stood a little too fast, only to startle my room-mate with her curtains closed! I slid aside the netted window and craned my neck out. Fog everywhere! I was in pure daze at the sight of the everlasting haze. Baffled by the fact that the sun was high above and it was almost 9 in the morning. Not the time you expect to see fog, in a place where winters feel like mild summer!

I exclaimed, almost cried out loud to my puzzled roomie to look out of the window. She pulled aside her curtains too, and I found myself a little pleased when she finally shared my flummox and amazement. We both watched this for a little more while, stupefied at the view outside. I even tried smelling the air, to make sure our building was not on fire, and the fog we saw was not really smoke! That would be a real foolish thing to do, admiring the beauty of a disaster... LOL! You can't blame me for this action. Come on, the same valley which was all clear a while back, was now filled with fog at the oddest of the times.

With the fact settling in that this strange unexpected thing has really happened, I ran back to get my camera to capture this moment, which was definitely for keeps in my Manipal Journal. The serenity of this moment is something I can't really describe. It reminded me of some beautiful times from the past. I will never stop being amazed as to how thought connections work, sliding you through the journey of time.

For a few moments, I was in a bus filled with people fast asleep, woken up by something very early in the morning to look out of the window, and find a sight to behold. At that moment, I remember looking back and blinking my eyes once, just once... to capture the togetherness and the familiarity. I remember a tear trickling out of the corner of my left eye followed by a smile. A relieved smile, an everlasting smile. For I knew then that I would always remember the way I felt at that moment.

Soon after, I snapped out of my reverie, only to find the trail of a single tear on my left cheek. Deja Vu! I think some memories will always come back, some feelings will never be replaced, some regrets will always last a lifetime, some chances will never be given, some words will never be heard, some promises will always be kept, and some dreams will always be dreamed. But, miracles will still always happen. Amen.