I had been talking to Anjali the whole of yesterday and yet was left with a desire to talk more, "can't have the cake and eat it too syndrome," speaking of which I should have got her birthday cake on her birthday but had decided against it. Her birthday had come and gone, we had fought two months before that and on her birthday I was left with a bittersweet feeling, I wanted to wish her and yet knew she wouldn't talk to me. So I bought her a gift and kept it packed, "Oh and what fun it was," knowing how much I wanted to visit her and yet just holding back till things were better. Yesterday I had spoken to her as if I was simulating a birthday, "like I knew Tom from Jerry," and it left me wanting a whole lot more.
I am an emotionally sensitive person and to see her happy made me happy, "isn't that sweet ?" my mother would say and yet I knew it to be the truth today, speaking of which, my mother herself is a very sweet person till she sees an injustice happening somewhere, then she is as wicked as the Queen of Persia with her knives. Last she was at the supermarket with Anjali, she had seen a kid almost being trampled upon by a runaway food trolley, she had jumped over the guard rail and was at the throat of the errant man, "I might be an old woman, but if that kid gets hurt, you are dead mister." The man had backed down immediately and apologised and she along with Anjali had gone and bought the kid some chocolates and made the man pay for it.
I had popped into Anjali's house in the morning with flowers, she had never got flowers from me and was elated, I cooked her breakfast and took Romeo for a walk allowing her to eat in peace and by the time I was back she was getting ready for work. She lived in an apartment, two bedrooms and the works, she loved her place and worked hard at making it a beautiful place to stay in. On and off, depending on her moods she would invite somebody over for a meal and talk to them like the mad hatter. She was "April" to me, not too cold and not too hot, just the right shade and a perfectly balanced woman who could give you advice on your life based on her experiences of which she had many. She made you whole just by talking to you and when she spoke to you it was like you would see the flowers bloom and the sun shine and the birds chirp.
After she left for work, and I was on leave, I cleaned up the place and sat down with Romeo to muse about what next, it was like when she went away, the world came to an end, Romeo and me were in the same boat, missing the thought of her and waiting for her to come back home and take us in her wings. We played "find the cuckoo" and some other games that he liked to play, "like licking my face till the cream went off the cake," and it was evening, time for Anjali to return home. She came home with a spring in her steps,"and we both were waiting to spring onto her," welcome home! how was your day! and all the other phrases that we humans, "and Romeo was almost there now," welcome people we love back to our homes. It had been a great day.
Sometimes We Alternate Between a Dream and Reality.
I am an emotionally sensitive person and to see her happy made me happy, "isn't that sweet ?" my mother would say and yet I knew it to be the truth today, speaking of which, my mother herself is a very sweet person till she sees an injustice happening somewhere, then she is as wicked as the Queen of Persia with her knives. Last she was at the supermarket with Anjali, she had seen a kid almost being trampled upon by a runaway food trolley, she had jumped over the guard rail and was at the throat of the errant man, "I might be an old woman, but if that kid gets hurt, you are dead mister." The man had backed down immediately and apologised and she along with Anjali had gone and bought the kid some chocolates and made the man pay for it.
I had popped into Anjali's house in the morning with flowers, she had never got flowers from me and was elated, I cooked her breakfast and took Romeo for a walk allowing her to eat in peace and by the time I was back she was getting ready for work. She lived in an apartment, two bedrooms and the works, she loved her place and worked hard at making it a beautiful place to stay in. On and off, depending on her moods she would invite somebody over for a meal and talk to them like the mad hatter. She was "April" to me, not too cold and not too hot, just the right shade and a perfectly balanced woman who could give you advice on your life based on her experiences of which she had many. She made you whole just by talking to you and when she spoke to you it was like you would see the flowers bloom and the sun shine and the birds chirp.
After she left for work, and I was on leave, I cleaned up the place and sat down with Romeo to muse about what next, it was like when she went away, the world came to an end, Romeo and me were in the same boat, missing the thought of her and waiting for her to come back home and take us in her wings. We played "find the cuckoo" and some other games that he liked to play, "like licking my face till the cream went off the cake," and it was evening, time for Anjali to return home. She came home with a spring in her steps,"and we both were waiting to spring onto her," welcome home! how was your day! and all the other phrases that we humans, "and Romeo was almost there now," welcome people we love back to our homes. It had been a great day.
Sometimes We Alternate Between a Dream and Reality.
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