Tag: postaday

Winter’s Tale

winter's tale

We faced each other under the tree I’d like to call my second home. It was a chilly day in the midst of a beautiful winter. The sheen of snow over her head glistened in the weak November sun.

Everything around us appeared romantic. Except her eyes. She blinked through angry tears, staring at me as if I had committed a felony.

I hadn’t.

I had instead asked her to spend the rest of her life with me. And she replied with nothing more than a stream of tears rolling down her cheeks, now pale from the cold.

She walked away while I watched my hopes dangle from her coat pockets.

—

I got the call a week later. Summer hadn’t told me about her fatal illness. She left and eternal winter engulfed me.

The Fun Plan

“The thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through your veins…”

There’s thrill, sure. And blood pumping through my veins. But there’s no chase. At least not the kind Sherlock meant. I’m chasing time instead.

Let’s start over.

We’re planning a trip to one of my favourite parts of India: Kerala. And I can’t sleep thinking about what to do, what to eat, and how to make it more than just another holiday.

There’s so much joy and excitement in planning for a trip. I’ve never fancied myself as a person sticking to plans and schedules. I like to just go with the flow. But that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy making plans.

phoebeEvery morning when I pick out the day’s clothes, my eyes land on that one pair of jeans, or that shirt that would be great to wear on the trip. Or when I’m munching on a new flavour of fries, I make a mental note to buy it for the ride. “Ma would enjoy it,” I’d tell myself. I browse through cakes online to get “an idea” of the kind of cake we should order.

I take a virtual tour of the route we would take, look for decent rest stops, snack shops, sweet stalls, and memento stores. I zoom in and “search nearby” on Google maps, looking for fancy restaurants and coffee shops.

I go on trip planning sites to read through reviews of speciality food, and I scroll through menus and imagine myself ordering steamed fish and savouring how well it goes with the fried rice.

And I plan my work around my trip. I’ve become extra productive this week, so I could be at peace when I leave. I beg my colleagues to finish tasks soon because I wouldn’t be at work to check them out next week. I’ll go around bragging to every tea lover that I’m off to holiday amidst tea estates.

And all the while, I pretend like I don’t even have a plan. But every night, as I twist and turn in bed, sleepless, I’m glad I’m a day closer to the trip.

That Day

He woke to a lone house

And walked in solo a path

Lived only by himself

And cooked just for one

With the radio for company

On days dark and gloomy

Each day was the same

Going on with no name

Except one day every year

Calls someone so dear

“Happy Father’s Day, Dad.”

Chasing Dreams

Her parents hadn’t bothered. Her classmates thought her a loser. And her teachers didn’t want to acknowledge “the weird girl” as their student.

She was weird and bespectacled. She’d have a pencil between her teeth and another behind her ear. She’d choose the notebook over the Notebook any day.

Twelve years ago, she ran away from school. To explore the world. To write.

She didn’t stop waver for one moment. And after all this time, or The Screeching Voice in My Head, came out two days ago. She hadn’t slept since.

James thrust the review magazine at her.

She opened to happiness.