The dreamy day
The evening light poured gently into the quiet house, its golden rays brushing against the walls as though time itself had slowed down. Near the doorway stood a 15-years-old girl, still and thoughtful, her hair swaying softly with the breeze that slipped through. Her small hands were folded in front of her chest, her eyes carrying the calm of someone lost in a world far away. In that stillness, she looked almost unreal—like the main character of a story no one had begun to write yet. But the silence shattered in an instant.
“Look what I got!” her 11-years-old brother’s voice rang out, playful and full of mischief. She spun around quickly, her drowsy calm bursting into sudden light. His little palms were overflowing with bright candies, the colors glinting like jewels. “Ahh! Give it to me!” she squealed, her face breaking into pure joy as she leapt forward. He grinned, stepping back just in time. “Catch me first!” “Yah! Don’t run!” she laughed, chasing him, her bare feet echoing against the floor.
“Both of you, stop running in the house!” their mother’s stern voice cut through the air, but her warning only slipped past like wind—they were too caught up in their game. “Give it to me, give it to meee!” the girl cried out, her arms stretched, her breath bubbling with laughter. Her brother darted ahead, teasing, his grin wide as though the whole world was their playground.Just as she reached the staircase, her foot slipped——and the dream collapsed.
She tumbled off the bed, her blanket twisting around her like tangled wings. The candy, the chase, the golden light—all shattered like glass. On the floor, she blinked awake, her cheeks flushed with sleep, her lips pressed into a small pout. She rubbed her eyes slowly, her hair messy, her tiny frame curled like a sleepy kitten. Even in her stumble, she carried a childish glow—half naughty, half soft, as though she was still chasing her brother in a dream that had quietly dissolved.
“ Elara wake up now! How long will you sleep?” her mother’s sharp voice came from the kitchen, cutting through the haze. Startled, she scrambled up, hurried to brush her teeth, and rushed toward the kitchen, her steps still clumsy with sleep. Her mother looked at her firmly. “Tell me—will you eat first or take a bath first?” “Breakfast first, Mom,” she replied quickly, her voice small. “Then go and wake your brother. He’s still sleeping like a log.” She sighed—it was always the hardest job. Walking to his room, she found him curled tightly under the blanket, hidden from the world. “kael… get up,” she whispered, shaking his shoulder. “Mmm… five more minutes,” he muttered, pulling the blanket over his head. “No! Mom will scold me if you don’t wake up. Please get up,” she begged, tugging harder. He groaned. “You always disturb my sleep. Why don’t you go without me?” She frowned, pulling at the blanket with both hands. “Because Mom said both of us. Now get up—or I’ll tell her you’re still sleeping.” With a heavy sigh, he sat up at last, his hair messy, his eyes barely open. “Fine, fine! You win.” She smirked in triumph. “Yes. Now hurry!” Soon, both siblings joined their mother at the dining table. Breakfast passed in playful glares and tiny smiles, the quiet kind of bond that only siblings understood.
Later, the family gathered in the living room. The TV buzzed faintly in the background, but the real focus was their voices. The girl leaned on the sofa, her father sitting beside her, his face thoughtful. “Dad… when will corona end?” she asked softly, her voice carrying a child’s restless longing.Her father glanced at her, then sighed gently. “Elara, no one knows. The doctors are trying, but until then, we must be careful.”She fidgeted with her dress. “It feels like forever… I want to go to school again. To meet my friends.” Her brother, yawning, added, “And I just want to play cricket outside.” Their mother smiled faintly, though her eyes softened. “Everyone wants life to be normal again. We just have to wait.” Her father reached out, ruffling his daughter’s hair, his voice calm but firm. “One day this will end. Until then, we’ll face it together.” The day slipped by in the rhythm of lockdown, carrying its own quiet joys. Indoors, laughter filled the rooms as ludo boards clattered with dice and housie tickets scattered across the floor.
As evening fell, they moved outside to the wide porch—a space shared with her uncle’s family, where the boundary blurred and the children became one big team. Cricket balls hit the cement with sharp echoes, badminton rackets sliced through the dusk, and the porch glowed under soft yellow bulbs. The two houses, standing side by side, felt like a single home stitched together by laughter. And as the night finally deepened, it left behind a familiar warmth—the small but certain comfort of family, repeating itself like a promise in the endless days of lockdown.
