Remember those long drives with your family, when you were small? When even an hour ride would feel like forever.
Remember when your dad drove the car when the stars were out? You would watch vehicles zoom by. And watch the headlights of the oncoming vehicles. Fasinated by the yellow light. And you would wonder, “How does dad not get distracted by them lights while driving?” Until, your eyes got tired and heavy. You would like down on the backseat, watching the stars. Blink several times in a vain attempt to keep yourself awake. And the next time you open your eyes, it’s morning already and you are snugly wrapped inside your blanket.
All that is left is a faint memory of a touch. Of being lifted and held close to mom’s/dad’s heart. Head resting on the shoulder as one hand held your head in place. Gently put you in bed. Tucked you in your favourite blanket.
Just like that the world was at peace. Secure.
Remember that feeling?
Those 15 mins every morning with my mother has come to become the best part of my day, life. The drop from home to her bus stop which is on the way to mine. Takes 15 minutes. Everyday.
She is with me. She talks. She shares. Stuff she wouldn’t otherwise at home. She talks about her work. She talks about her college get-together. She talks about her plans. She talks about her calls with her sisters. She talks.
Though a grown child that I am, I am still happy about the fact that, those 15 minutes she is completely with me. Her eyes for me her ears for me. Her thoughts for me. She is present around me. The lighter part of her day, when it has just begun is also shared with me.
Those 15 minutes that she gives me, is the most beautiful thing anyone can ever do for me.
She would rush around the rooms of her house, her mind swirling in turmoil. Her elder daughter’s marriage was failing. Her younger daughter refused to settle down. She found no comfort in her husband’s words, rather they flared up her temper even more. So she rushed around, busied herself in work. She overworked at her hospital as a consultant. Her patients choosing her over other doctors, because of her soft, patient and sweet nature, provided her no comfort. This success was nothing. She threw herself at the kitchen to not let her thoughts overtake her sanity. Her home was where she could be herself. Even if she held herself back, she was herself. Her impatience, her irritation and her tiredness would spill out in her tone.
This one day when her daughters were going out together they saw her brows crossed. She had her hands on her hips as she came at the door to close after them. The younger daughter called for the lift. Neither of the daughters would dare, but the younger one pushed the door open while her mother was closing it. She looked annoyed. The daughter rushed near her and planted a kiss on her right cheek and ran off to a safe distance near the lift.
The kiss seemed to melt her bitterness away. Her brows were uncrossed and she couldn’t help herself and she gave a reluctant albeit a big smile.
For a while, in that moment, everything was perfect and fine again.