Once upon a .... moment
Her hands shook slightly while opening the green Vaseline jar. With the tip of her pruned fingers she applied it on her wrinkled hand. Age showed on every inch of her body. If you counted her wrinkles and divided them by 10 you’d know how old she is. If you looked at the geography of her hand; you’d see mountains of pain and meadows of happiness. At such an age, lonely she was but content she felt.
That day felt different. The weather started to change few weeks back and she managed to get all her cashmere shawls and cardigans down to the second level in her cupboard. Not low enough for her to bend her scarliosised back nor high enough for her to stand on her toes. She pulled the wool royal blue shawl and wrapped it around her shoulder letting out a sigh as soon as the smell of the dihn oud touched the tip of her nose. The smell woke up her spirit again but more than that, it was the spell that brought back her memories to life.
She always loved the sound of her shoes on the parquet flooring. For some reason, that gave her a smile. It was funny how small tiny details managed to draw a smile on her face. Just like how the bunch of wild tulips and violet hydragenea she bought three days back filled her with life. She started thinking of her daily to do list trying to remember to call her friend who had an osteopathy treatment three days back when the voice of the motor bike broke the silence and reminded her to pay the newspaper man his money. Reading newspaper online no longer fancied her.
We always say that there will be a day the world would seem to be a better and safer place to live in but every day this seems to be further than reality and closer to a dream. Newspapers are as stuffed with ads as it was always but when she was about to turn page 4 a name grasped her attention or was it the picture, maybe both. She read the article with as much interest and love as she used to read his interviews several years back. After so many years he still was the only one that managed to touch her heart with so much love and warmth. A different kind of love. Every word she read and every statement. There were times she wanted to pick up the phone and dial his office’s number and tell him how much she loved his latest campaign and how she thought that he needed to put more emphasis on direct mails rather than full page ads. Today was different, today she felt the warmth of her tears slowly slide down her cheeks to the unknown, drenching the newspaper between her hands.
Once upon a time she shared good memories with him. She still had all the correspondence between him when he was away. From time to time she opens the wooden oak box in her library and reads the letters again. They take her back to the old days. Every “I miss you” he wrote her soothed her aching heart. Pure and honest love that was chained with bias cultural boundaries choked her. Her tears turned into a summer cloud filled with seasonal rain and her cry stopped in bottom of her throat. He asked her once “will you love me forever” and she knew at that time that “yes till the day I die” was what her heart told her...................................
That day felt different. The weather started to change few weeks back and she managed to get all her cashmere shawls and cardigans down to the second level in her cupboard. Not low enough for her to bend her scarliosised back nor high enough for her to stand on her toes. She pulled the wool royal blue shawl and wrapped it around her shoulder letting out a sigh as soon as the smell of the dihn oud touched the tip of her nose. The smell woke up her spirit again but more than that, it was the spell that brought back her memories to life.
She always loved the sound of her shoes on the parquet flooring. For some reason, that gave her a smile. It was funny how small tiny details managed to draw a smile on her face. Just like how the bunch of wild tulips and violet hydragenea she bought three days back filled her with life. She started thinking of her daily to do list trying to remember to call her friend who had an osteopathy treatment three days back when the voice of the motor bike broke the silence and reminded her to pay the newspaper man his money. Reading newspaper online no longer fancied her.
We always say that there will be a day the world would seem to be a better and safer place to live in but every day this seems to be further than reality and closer to a dream. Newspapers are as stuffed with ads as it was always but when she was about to turn page 4 a name grasped her attention or was it the picture, maybe both. She read the article with as much interest and love as she used to read his interviews several years back. After so many years he still was the only one that managed to touch her heart with so much love and warmth. A different kind of love. Every word she read and every statement. There were times she wanted to pick up the phone and dial his office’s number and tell him how much she loved his latest campaign and how she thought that he needed to put more emphasis on direct mails rather than full page ads. Today was different, today she felt the warmth of her tears slowly slide down her cheeks to the unknown, drenching the newspaper between her hands.
Once upon a time she shared good memories with him. She still had all the correspondence between him when he was away. From time to time she opens the wooden oak box in her library and reads the letters again. They take her back to the old days. Every “I miss you” he wrote her soothed her aching heart. Pure and honest love that was chained with bias cultural boundaries choked her. Her tears turned into a summer cloud filled with seasonal rain and her cry stopped in bottom of her throat. He asked her once “will you love me forever” and she knew at that time that “yes till the day I die” was what her heart told her...................................
unfinished !
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A Lost Dot:
Even a piece of writing would not do him justice.....
4 comments:
My grandma died six months ago, She is in heavens I pray and hope. I have an uncle the youngest of her sons, he drives 5 hours to the grave every weekend, sits there for hours, and drives 5 more back to home. No one approves of it, yet he insists.
Eventually he'll stop of that I am sure.
>>> There are no second takes in life, as life is no movie to rewind or forward.
annonymous i am sorry for your loss. When my grandpa passed away my uncles used to drive to his grave every weekend.. only one does that now ..
If only life is a movie or you have the "click remote control" to it.. there would be times we'd rewind and "act" it differently.. and times.. we'd just fast foward it..
Seize the moment they always say..but sometimes seizing the moments require that you take decisions that.. aren't to your favor.
thank you for posting .. your comment was highly informative.
"seize the moment" is wishful thinking, according to me.
we were created to evolve gradually and learn....just like a painting... we all wish to avoid certain stuff, hide some others, and get rid of current...but in the end the minor errors of the picture are part of the essence of the picture...
Imperfection leads to perfection. Check the Miracle architure around the world. Science cant reason them, yet they seem perfect. Rules could be bended.
besides forcing a frame to the picture, may not necessarily reflect it.
I remind myself- that what I dislike about my current life are actual elements that drived me to glow.
fatima
Oh gosh....I absolutely love this...
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