Archive for September, 2013
…seeing the partner spend time with baby M and hearing him gush about how she’s so fond of him. She is about 15 months old and this past weekend is the first time that the partner has held her, fed her, played with her. He usually stays away from babies who can’t walk, says he’s too scared to handle the tiny beings; so I guess her wobbling on her two little feet gave him enough confidence to pick her up.
…trying something new – especially for someone like me who is resistant to experiments most of the times. The partner is very fond of seafood; ever so often he contemplates becoming a vegetarian but says that the only thing that stops him is his love for seafood. So, on a whim, sometime in the past month, I mentioned to the partner that I wanted to taste fish the next time he had it. Partner then suggested that I should have homemade fish before trying outside food. A friend invited us over for lunch on Sunday and had cooked fish. So, there I was, munching on my veggies when the partner remembered my comment from few weeks ago and asked me if I wanted to give the fish a try. And try I did. A teensy bite. I didn’t like it and that was that. But, I did surprise myself doing what I did and that made me glad. Egg white – that’s what is next on list.
…dreaming about the next vacation. One more week to go.
…playing with the M and M duo all afternoon long. Didi M, probably sensing that I would be enamored by the baby once I laid my eyes on her, made sure she got her share of time to play with me too by dragging me upstairs as soon as I entered their home. We did all that we usually do together – solved puzzles, drew on the black board, read stories and had fun, over all. And then for the rest of the time Baby M had all my attention with Didi making appearance, every now and then, and demanding her rightful place on my lap.
…deciding on Monday morning to take the day off and heading off to a nearby park to hike and relax. Most of the Sunday evenings the partner puts on his oh-it’s-already-the-end-of-the-weekend face and asks if taking off on Monday is an option. And many a times, both he and I know that it’s not. This Sunday night though, I said why not. He thought for a couple of minutes and said that he would check his schedule first thing Monday morning and if there was nothing too important going on at work then we should take the day off. Monday morning happened; the partner checking his calendar happened; happy shriek of nothing-much-going-on-today happened; and then, both of us taking the day off happened. Once all that was settled, we decided where we wanted to go, got ready and headed off. We hiked for a couple of hours, relaxed near the lake for the next hour or two, and got back home feeling contended. Why can’t all Mondays be like this?
…being with the partner.
…where during the train rides you can find so many people reading books, savoring each and every word. Just going through the different titles in different hands is enough to pass the time. At times you wonder how that book is, and then there are times you’ve read it and all you can wonder about is how much that person is liking/disliking it.
…where during the train ride you also find amusement in the form of little ones being their naughty best. Climbing the support poles, jumping in and out seats, to their parents’ dismay, smiling that shy smile to melt the heart of anyone that’s watching.
…where during the train rides you find that the person sitting next to the person next to you is writing (with a pen, notebook and all that, yes!) intently. Wouldn’t you be ever so charmed by the sight of it? I know I was.
Also, where else other than Boston would you be able to spend an entire weekend morning/afternoon watching a live the game of Quidditch? The sight of the human Snitch, in its bright yellow suit, running and hiding, as the two Seekers calmly walking around the park, almost hand in hand, in the name of “seeking” is precious.
All in all, it’s always a pleasant to be in or even just think of Boston. Miss you, dear city!
Towards the end of our recent vacation the partner and I stopped by at a gas station to fill the tank since it was time to return the rental car. There, at almost 10 PM at night, was a young man. He approached the partner as he (the partner) was finishing up and asked if we would mind paying for a couple of gallons of gas for him because his car’s tank was empty and he wanted to get to some nearby urgently. He reassured the partner that he would show the fuel gauge indicating that the tank in his car was really running out of fuel.
The partner asked him to wait for a second and came around to ask me if it was ok with me if he went ahead and helped the young man out. I had heard the whole conversation as it was happening, and I knew that the partner wouldn’t turn the guy down. And I felt at that time that the guy had a genuine need too and said ok to the partner.
A few minutes later the partner came back after having filled a couple of gallons in the other car. And after final thank you and what not, the guy started smoking a cigarette (after offering one to the partner, as well, for all the help) we pulled out of the gas station just as another car was heading in. Once out, we were stopped at a signal. And as we were waiting there I turned around to see if the guy, with all his hurry to get to the nearby town, was leaving or not. To my surprise, he was in a conversation with that other driver trying to convince him/her too to help him out, I am sure.
We felt bad. No, the money wasn’t the matter; it was ok that we had to spend a little amount to help out someone we thought was in need. But it was the underlying deceit that bothered me. I have had a similar incident happen to me years ago when I had just moved to Boston. And since then, I usually think twice before offering a helping hand to a stranger. But I wonder if that’s good or bad. Should one or two such events dictate so strongly the answer to whether or not I should help someone who may be in real need? Or should I forget about it all and keep doing what feels right at the moment, instead of worrying about whether or not the other person’s words/actions are honest – should that matter to me?
I don’t know. I only hope I don’t become too much of a cynic, I don’t think I would like that about myself.
…your hands patting me, comforting me as I struggle and try to wake from the middle of a nightmare. How did you know, before I did, that I was scared of something and needed your reassuring embrace?
…your patience as I crib and cry through a non-existent issue. How do you, ever so compassionately and persistently, spend so much time trying to calm me when all I am is being unreasonable and irrational?
…your desire to satisfy my every whim. How do you find the energy to make sure even the littlest of things that I wish for is taken care of in the most elaborate way possible?
…the sparkle in your eyes. The joy in your smile. The kindness in your words. The melody of your laughter. The passion in your heart. The thoughtfulness of your actions.
Love is you.
A leaf glided towards the ground
hoping to land with no sound.
But underneath the calm starlit sky
she heard its almost silent sigh.
Was the tree having nightmares too?
Or was it just swaying as the cold winds blew?
She opened the door and stepped out to see
if the tree and its tiny leaf had any plea.
The tree still danced and the leaf strode away
as if in their life there was no gray.
The half bracelet moon grinned wide
and glowing stars surrounded the happy bride.
She walked back in, wishing to smile.
But with nightmares so vile,
nothing but tears found way
and her heavy heart was here to stay.
As she lay on her bed
trying to push all the dread,
he pulled her close and held her tight.
Was that touch was the answer to all her plight?
She smiled a smile and closed her eyes.
The nightmares fled, breaking ties.
Sleep she did, by his side.
Now she too was a happy bride.