I had a sleepover at the children’s home on Friday night. We microwaved three bags of buttered and salted popcorn. Watched two cartoon movies. Laughed at ourselves. Finished countless bags of junk and sucked on a few lollipops. The kids broke their 9pm curfew and slept after 12am.
I had drool on my arm and a girl fast asleep on my lap. And about six mosquito bites.
Before sleeping, a boy told me he prays before he sleeps. So we prayed together, thanking Jesus for the moon, stars and sun and for giving us our friends, families, brothers and sisters and the night. I liked how we didn’t close our eyes when we prayed. I liked how we looked at each other, smiling and yet conscious of what we were mouthing. Avinash is an amazing kid.
Here’s the kid, moments before he woke up:
Before I left, Darrsini gave me her drawing. I kept asking her if she was sure. She said yes, yes and yes. So she taught me a new word that day: Impala. It’s an African antelope.
Later, my literary friend and I went to a reading event at a posh-eastern-mix-western-artsy-fartsy-upper-crust home-turned-gallery-slash-library-slash-architectural-office. I did not shower since the sleepover, but no one could tell. I think. Anyway, she read a play she wrote about the world’s smelliest durian tower. The pigs loved her. As for me, I loved the open-air bathroom concept.