It was a cold rainy day in Boston. He was feeling lonesome that day. It was a strange feeling for him as he is generally very comfortable in his own company, with his own thoughts. But, he was missing someone very dear, very special. His mom.
It was her birthday. It was the first time in many many years that he couldn’t wake his mom up with a kiss on her forehead, to wish her birthday and give her a present. Well, it was his preferred way of expressing his gratitude for her assiduous and selfless love. It was the only day in a year when he got up before she did. She always loved it. He hoped she wasn’t feeling inadequate today in his absence.
He remembered her teary-eyed face when he was leaving for Boston. She was inconsolable. He still had to go. Such is life. Her love was the perfect irony. Very intense, yet he needed to grow away in its absence. He remembered a time when he curtailed his US work trip to be back in time for her birthday. She was so happy. But this time, he couldn’t. That saddened him, kind of.