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Archive for February, 2009

That Line

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Sunday Afternoon, in the park just near my home, I bent on my knees. Using an ice stick, I drew a line that was not even a straight one. I raised my head a little bit just so I could see your shoes. You were standing right there, in front of me, at the other side of that line. I did not feel the need to see you in the eyes. I intended to take the line to tear apart what had not been there. People might say that was not possible but they did not know anything. As I had not any desire to open my mouth, I delivered the statement inside my head. I pretended that your shoes were you and I would like to tell you something.

You can set your feet at any side of that line or anywhere on this world but as for me, on the other side of that line there will always be you, just like this Sunday afternoon. That line is just for me not to cross it.


“What were you drawing? Let me see. Let me see.”

“Here, here, this is a line.”

“OK… and what line is it? What is that point in the middle of it?”

“That is us. We’ve been together for years. At first, there were us, with our friends, problems, and fun. They are still there plus the whole new experience as a new family, as a parent, as new neighbor, from our parents’ house to our very own, new office, and so on, and so on. There has been a lot and there are more to come. We are in the middle of our journey.”

“You’ve made a mistake, then.”


“The point should be at the beginning of that line. We just start.”


That line below the number is getting bolder and bolder. No matter how many times he makes the line, the number does not change. He looks around and takes a long breath. He scans people passing him by without any thoughts. Back to the number and that line, really nothing has changed. There are chairs and although he doesn’t get asleep these few days, he cannot put himself to rest a little bit. The number keeps him standing. It is given by the doctor, the price of his daughter’s health, an operation he cannot afford. After another 5 minutes of staring and sighing, he gets back to his daughter room. The look of his wife asks what the doctor was saying. He smiles lightly and pauses. Trying to show an ‘everything is alright’ face is harder than he thought. He does not want to lie but does not want to tell the whole truth for now either. So he says, “Everything is going to be OK”. His two beloved women smiles back at him. That’s the moment he knows that it really is going to be alright.


Her little hands hold the paper. She is satisfied with her works. This is her first school test result. She has done her best, before, during, and after the test. By ‘after the test’, it means that she already gives an additional line on her test score. It was 4, now it is 14. She found out few friends who get a 10 and she knew counting well enough to understand that 14 is more than 10. She runs as fast as she can to show her mother the paper. Handling it proudly, she says, “I got you the biggest number in class, Mom. I did it just for you.”, then she giggles. Seeing that line drawn with an orange crayon, her mother can’t help but laugh. She kisses her and replies, “Thank you very much, dear.”


I re-read what I have been writing for 3 times at least. The first one is to check whether the story echoes what I want to share. It is not about how other might get it. I would like to give them freedom to interpret. It is more to have what I want to tell in the form of my writing. The second one is to find any grammatical mistakes. I’ve always tried the best I could but English is not my native language. However, I feel like getting an award every time I do corrections. The third one is to see if I can do better with the choice of words, the plot, the order of the events, everything. If there are the fourth, fifth one and so on, that happens because I am proud of my writing. :D

As I re-read this writing, I’ve been drawing my own lines. Now, at the end of this post, a diagonal line it is.

Written by Elfira Y S

February 14th, 2009 at 3:58 pm

Posted in my cocktails

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