There are seven
of us as the kids' favorite helper. We are in that room doing nothing than just
to wait for the last kid being fetch by his parents.
Tidy up those
tables and chairs,
sweep the floor,
eat homemade
donuts with oreo ice-cream flavor
and to laugh at
the kid’s paper plane.
Nothing feels
wrong. Everything feels right. No wasting time. Even though , well as you know,
i really really hate the act of waiting.
Then the sound of
guitar comes in from the corner of the book shelf. I don’t know what is that
for. I mean, if he tries to make me feel like i’m home(?).. yea.. it works.
They sing that
wise man song and the other is making a joke about it.
Here i am. Glad of
being part of them.
Sometimes,
I feel like this
world is a wish-granting factory.
I remember when i
was starting my first semester in my university, I said, “I would like to teach
and get more money to spend.”
And surprise-surprise,
the next two days i teach in an English course with no experience of teaching
before. And I’ve been teaching there for like 7 months now.
I ain’t kidding
when i said that my God knows what’s best for His child.
Goodnight for you
my midnight remedies.
