My throat feels like tied down to a few bags of wet cement. I hate thunderstorms and wet weather, and my feelings of uncertainty and insecurity somehow always coincide with the disappearance of the sun.
At the Metro today, I saw a family today. Four people with that distinct Punjabi nose that I'm way too familiar with. For the first time in life seeing the familiar Punjabi nose made me happy; nostalgia I suppose. Punjabi uncle with his new handycam, recording each train that arrived on the platform; inside the trains, disheveled and tired men and women, staring. Well-groomed Punjabi twenty something daughter with her permed, dyed hair and flat stomach, excitedly recounting her day to her mother--a beautiful Punjabi matron, with heavy eyeliner and round, gold earrings. And hovering over them all, the tall, bear-like son of the family, holding them together so they wouldn't miss their train.
