My Bad Sore Throat
I’m learning to appreciate the true meaning of silence these days. I speak only when it is absolutely necessary. Otherwise, I restrict the use of my vocal cords indefinitely.
If you think I’m going into this self-meditative state permanently, you’ve got me wrong. If you think I’m going into this reclusive retreat where silence is golden, you’ve got me wrong. If you think I’m traumatised from my past experiences, you’ve got me wrong.
I don’t have a choice really.
I’m down with a bad sore throat – one that seems to get worse as the days go by. Monday arrived with a slight discomfort. Tuesday brought a greater intensity to it with a dry cough. Wednesday heightened it to a crescendo with some yellowish phlegm. Tomorrow is Thursday. I wonder what’s in store for me.
If you catch me with a moody face tomorrow, you’ll know my sore throat’s still persistent. If you see me with a megawatt smile tomorrow, it means sunny days are back and I can sing to my heart’s content again.
Even if it’s my own throat, I won’t bet a wagger to see which way it will swing tomorrow. I’ll leave it to the goodness of the universe to decide what’s in store for me.
