Tomorrow some guests are visiting us. Well, they’re actually relatives who live in a land, far far away. I don’t remember having ever seen them, and I don’t know if I’ll ever see them again. But they’re in town, and have been kind enough to acknowledge our presence, and have decided to pay us a visit.
That’s all wonderful and exciting. But then it has also created a huge problem. The house has to be cleaned up. Every thing must be put in its rightful place.
Some are already stationed at their rightful place. And that is because no one ever considered it necessary to relocate them in the first place. But a huge blanket of dust envelopes them, and now that summers are here, it is time they were relieved of this burden.
There are several items which are out of place. They are easy enough to put back.
The tough part is in deciding what to do with the majority of items – the homeless ones. They have no place, yet they have been roaming around the house like vagabonds.
In the middle of this clean up operation, a small piece of paper stared at me. It had a list of names and numbers. Memories of an old age instantly popped up in my head. Many years ago, the words on the paper would have been a very important piece of information. People, with whom I had spent many months. We all cried and promised to keep in touch. We felt sad to leave the school where we had spent so many years, we were like a family.
But today, they are nothing more than words. Even though I could recall something about them, there was neither the slightest inclination of ever wanting to meet them, nor regret at not having kept in touch.
I tore the piece of paper. It had found its place – in the dustbin.