Waiting for a Miracle

In my little porch, as I rock on my chair, faint memories seem to come back. The vast blue sky, the far away twinkling stars, the beautiful moon, as though beckoning me to that world where I reigned once upon a time. I had just got married, and went over the seas with my wife, for a new job. We settled in with a family who agreed to rent us a small part of their house. Life was so blissful then. The romance that comes with the excitement of a new marriage, the enthusiasm of a new place and job, the carefree life.

The family we stayed with was nice to us, and we happened to become best of friends. They had two young girls, with whom me and my wife would love to play and spend time with. When my wife was pregnant for the first time, they arranged a lovely function at our place, with all the festivities, just as though in India. I video taped the entire celebration. Now, I am so glad I did that.

Time flew by. It was in the winter of 1992 when I had an unbearable ache in the back of my head. The doctors said I had brain tumor. I needed surgery. Chances of me surviving were very little, but everyone had been supportive, and I went ahead with the preparations. I was being ushered into the operation theatre, and time came to a standstill. I didn’t know if I shall ever come back alive, if ever I shall see the pretty face of my wife and little daughter, if ever I shall breathe again. With my heart racing, I closed my eyes.

The operation was a success and everyone’s joy knew no bounds. I looked a lot different from what I was, with all my hair gone. But then, I was alive. And that’s what mattered. I thought I had got out of the worst ever situation of my life. Little did I know, what was in store for me.

I spent several years working hard, trying to keep my family financially stable, now that I had another boy. It was a peaceful family of four, and we decided to settle down in Chennai. We were once again trying to cope with life, trying hard to make for all those precious moments of bliss we had lost.

I don’t exactly remember when, but it was a morning that I shall never forget. I tried to sip down my coffee, and couldn’t. I was shocked. I tried to call out to my wife, and couldn’t. I felt sweat trickle down my face. I was rushed to the hospital, only to discover I had had a stroke. I was paralyzed. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t walk or even lift my arms. Then on, I was a silent witness to all that happened around me. My wife and children would cry endlessly at my bed, and I could do nothing. My friends slowly moved away. So did my relatives. For the first time in life, my wife felt so alone. There was no one.

After a lot of medication, I was finally able to walk with a little help and move my arms. I was brought back home. My wife has been very brave. She runs the family now.

And today morning, something so miraculous happened. The family we once shared our home with, came to visit us, along with those two sweet little girls, after so many years. My my, the girls have grown, they came to invite us for the elder one’s wedding. They all remember us even now, even the girls do. And we all sat and watched that video tape. This was bliss. They said I would get alright. A miracle shall happen. Now, as I sit on my porch, on this moonlit night, I wait for that miracle to happen.

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