Piece of paper
On the bus ride home tonight, I happened to look out of the window when the bus stopped at one of the stops along Serangoon Road.
A family of three was sitting at the bus stop, and the little girl perhaps about 5 or 6 years old was playing with a piece of paper. I watched her, as she rolled the paper into a cylinder, held one open end against her father’s ear, spoke into the other end and giggled as her father took the paper from her, and spoke into her ear the same way.
In the 1 minute that the bus was at this particular stop, the father and child conversed eagerly through the pretend mouth-to-ear piece. The mother looked on, also smiling. Nobody else in the bus stop seemed to have noticed them. It was as though they were in their own little Bliss Bubble.
And that’s all it was. A piece of paper.
It really doesn’t take much, you know. Maybe this is why I have to keep on writing. So when I look back at these moments–even if they’re not mine–I remember what happiness feels like.