" Papa! Papa!" I stretched my vocals to shout from the kitchen alcove. Bed sheets rustle in response. " Papa! Time to wake up! You are going to be late!" I shouted again while my hands are busy flipping the omelets in the frying pan. More rustlings. Silence follows as I scoop the cooked eggs out of the pan onto the plate and bring it out to the dining table that is already occupied with a pot of freshly made coffee, two bowls of gruel and an assortments of pickles in small dishes.
" Papa!" I hollered impatiently as I made my way into the bedroom. He is still lying under the covers deeply asleep as expected. Every morning I would go through this daily ritual of waking him, and the whole neighborhood up. " Papa!" I adopt the voice used for setting ultimatums, at the same time reaching out to pull the quilt off him. Suddenly a hand flew out from underneath and tug at my wrist. Before I could react, I had lost my balance and fell on him. My face ended up only inches from his so I could see the mischievous smile forming. Next his big round eyes open and adopt a doleful look staring straight into mine. I probably could spend my whole life looking into those eyes and lost myself in them.
" You are going to be very late." I mumbled half-heartedly when he pulls me back onto him and starts nuzzling my neck. " Breakfast is getting cold." I protest feebly. It did not take him long to have him reduce me into a soft helpless heap in his arms. I don't recall being flipped onto my back but when the nuzzling finally stops and he sat up, I was indeed flat on my back with my blouse in disarray.
Within half an hour, he had washed up and shaved, all dressed for work in a white jumpsuit. Sitting down at the table, he mumbled a word of thanks and start to eat at an eye blurring speed, finally completing the meal by drowning two cups of coffee. Mumbling another word of thanks, he got up swiftly and head for the door to put on his shoes. I had to leave the table quickly to stand at the door and see him off. Past experience had warned me that he would leave the house without a word if I were not quick enough to station myself at the doorway.
Like watching a tape on repeat mode, I waited mutely as he grabbed a white baseball cap off the hook on the wall and pull it over his head. Turning around, he pecks my cheek mechanically before he opened the door to leave. " Have a nice day!" I managed to say to a half closed door as he was already out of the house but not out of earshot yet. The soft click of the door lock answered me.
Turning back into the empty house, I survey my surroundings. The sunlight filtering in seems to emphasize further the lack of human existence in the room. I had opened the windows after waking up to air the room. Now the noise of traffic from below is coming through them. Instead of livening up the house, it brought about the contrast of life and the non-existence of it.
But somehow I don't feel desolation invading me. His touch is scattered all over this house, on the furniture, on every surface. I couldn't possibly feel lonely, it is as if he is right here beside me!
