...wake up dad...it's the anniversary

he lay motionless
in a semi-wet and mushy bed
disheveled facial hair
greyed eyebrows and soft and wrinkled hands

it's 9 am and the son in the mid-40's is on his weekly visit

curled up in foetal position facing the wall he hears the voice telling
"wake up Dad! it's the anniversary"

the old man vaguely remembers him
a face familiar yet his language and relation obscure

after an awkward and hesitant barely- in-contact hug the son settles back into his chair by the bed-side and the old man settles on the edge of the bed. toes touching the ground.

Dad, he utters.
The old man barely blinks. His eyes fixated on the man's face, as if pondering hard- who is this man?
till the son pulls out a yellowing old envelope and pulls out a picture.
his eyes light up as if it is now his daybreak and with the attention of a fixated teenager on his beloved game.

human eyes read and tell things that are barely spoken and never delivered aptly. the light in his eyes shone bright, so much so his face now vibrant and aglow.

........