It was a Sunday afternoon, rather a cloudy day. I sat comfortably on the sofa. The sounds of the air condition blower whistles away in the silence of the living room. I held the unfamiliar Astro remote controller and started channel surfing. I don’t remember the last time I sat in front of a tv. The new channel number feels alienated to me. My comfort zone was disturbed as I started hunting for my favorite channel. I pressed 70 and the black screen stares blankly at me. It doesn’t seem to respond to me. Without much choice, I hit the program arrow button. HBO. Pirates of the Caribbean. Ok, I figured I could burn time with this despite having watched the show before.
Jack Sparrow opens the chest and finds the heart beating. At that moment in time, my thought lingers on elsewhere. I was wondering where I kept my own heart. Has it been locked in a chest too? If so, where have I hid the chest and who has the key? I felt numb. My hands trembled in fear. There was a heavy silence in my heart. It wasn’t beating. I wasn’t breathing.
As I sat inching through my lifeless breathing rhythm, I looked out the window and saw the sun shining through the silver lining. The sun is out. The dark clouds are gone. Suddenly, I felt a pulse. Slowly, a surge of emotions filled my spine. A tingling sensation brought my knees weak. I felt overwhelmed.
Jack Sparrow’s face is still flashing in front of me. He uttered his lines. I hear nothing. I am in a world of my own, a world where I knew no pain or suffering. Only sunshine in the sky. I find myself smiling. For no apparent reason. Just me, smiling.