When Clocks And Calendars Collide

My body clock jogs me awake.

The calendar turns to another day.

Fall sets in in the Western Hemisphere

telling me where and when I am.

My brain obediently responds,

yet my essence is tugged by the magnet of memory.

Genes tussle with mind

over

where I am

where I was

where I should be

where I cannot be.

Wavering temperatures, timidly-coppering leaves, are the here and now.

Monsoon relief and the onset of the festival season are the there and then.

An alarm clock, a BlackBerry’s buzz, a dog’s cold nose, are the here and now.

The cawing of crows, the muezzin’s call, the milkman’s bell, are the there and then.

Suburban solitude, domesticity, neatly-numbered blocks, are the here and now.

Discordant, concordant, flamboyant, triumphant jamborees of sound, color, bustle, dust, life, are the there and then.

Google, Skype, Twitter, Facebook, Amplify, are the here and now.

Saris, street vendors, bangle-sellers, processions, happily homeless dogs and cats, are the there and then.

Husband, pets, my dearest friend an ocean away, growing-dearer friends a phone call away, no one a doorstep away, are the here and now.

Mother, father, brother, sister, aunts, uncles, cousins, all too numerous to count, are the there and then.

I was there then.

I am here now.

I loved it there then.

I love it here now.

I wanted here then.

I miss there now.

I am in both places, no place, some place, which place?

When clocks and calendars collide.

Image: Pinto Alex via Flickr, CC 2.0