Seasons in the Sun

I can't stop laughing over a little joke between my mother and me. I just cannot. She's giving me a bad glare, even reprimanding me for my non-stop laughter. Suddenly I feel so light headed and free of any burden. I haven't laughed this crazy in a long time, not especially along with my mother. It's amazing how these little things add up so much energy into everyday living. I am always taken by surprise by my mother's wit. She has a lively very hilarious sense of humour, one which she uses far less frequently because of us. I believe we are the reason she has turned into this worrying warrior. Well, all of us are warriors, fighters with seriousness hanging dead pan around our persona. But when the laughter hits our home, we are uncontrollable. And I am truly happy to feel this happy zing. All the worrying and misery that we (me, that is) seem to be carrying within us disappeared for a while. I love it when home turns out to be more than its expected share of misery and unhappiness of individuals and instead becomes the cheerful happy abode it is meant to be and is often visualised. 

Right now, my spirits are also uplifted due to the fact that everything seems to be in control. No weird surprises or strange scenarios acted out. It's a welcome respite to seek comfort and solace in people when we are least prepared for them. Also, I have just begun re-reading Tolstoy's epic saga, War and Peace in two beautiful leather bound gilded volumes bought by my Dad. I have a previous cheap paperback copy, not so cheap if I look back at the time of purchase way back in 2003. These two volumes are special. They smell great like musty vanilla crunched in cones, just the perfect way a book like War and Peace ought to, otherwise it livens up unpleasant memories of trying to get away from Tolstoy for a while. That happened to me when I was 15 and a very eager enthusiastic reader of Russian novels. Everybody from Tolstoy, Gogol, Pushkin, Dostoevsky, Nabokov, Pasternak had me stunned and engrossed in their world. It didn't help that I also was a huge fan of Oscar Wilde during those formative reading years. My mum once joked about me building book castles after I started earning my own dime. She wasn't wrong. I certainly do a good job doing that. But we are urbane citizens and lack of space doesn't undermine the ever growing love and need to keep buying books. It's a less wonder that one day when WE (Dad and me) shall be out of storage space for books, perhaps we will throw away the other materialistic hoards we have kept to please the other members of my family. It gets better when my mum locates the secret book stash Dad and me try so hard to hide in the house. Needless to say, we can never get away from doing any such sort of thing. She is the boss of the household. 

Since I am happy and obviously very haphazard in my thoughts here, it would be wise to write again after I feel coherent. I seem to think of too many unrelated things right now, one of them is music and I've been replaying the tune of Seasons in the Sun and Every little thing she does is magic and crooning over Sting's godly vocals. Music can give such a big rush other than the crazed sugary stuff we all keep ruining our bodies with. There I go again. Running off the track. But if on a serious note, this is how I will keep feeling when I am happy, then I would love to be in this state for at least a bit more time. Can't have it wasting on our dime since money is short these days in our country after all.