Daddy, I miss you…. June 17, 2011Posted by Amity in Short Stories, Thursday Tales.
Tags: short story, Thursday Tales
When I saw that painting, tears silently fell from my big brown eyes. There was both a smile and a twitch in the corner of my lips. Memories of my late father came flooding back in my mind.
When I was young, my father never tried to carry me in his warm lap. He was quite distant from all his kids. He was a strict disciplinarian believing in the dictum that children should be seen but not heard. He never brooked boisterous kids in the house. Just a look in his eyes and we knew we should stay mum in a corner. We lacked any demonstration of affection from him possibly from the notion that pampering kids would spoil them. But mom made it up for it with her sweet nature and love.
That was then when we were young children ourselves.
When I had kids, my father had changed immensely. He doted on all my three kids. Mother told me that the way he treated my kids so lovingly and warmly, was the exact opposite of how he had treated his own kids when they were young.
My kids were loud and active never known to sit quiet for a second. My son would demand to ride horseback on him and my dad would willingly be on his knees. He would enjoy playing hide and seek with my kids and derive immense pleasure in buying chocolates, apples, ice cream for my kids whenever he came home.
Fourteen years ago today, my father was so excited to have a vacation in the province where I was residing. He took along with him in his car my two older kids who were staying with my parents for almost a year. We could not find a trusted nanny and they volunteered to take my kinds under their custody.
An expert driver, he was driving the car very fast. Sooooooooo… fast that even my son Kelvin who relished speed urged him, “Grandpa, please slow down. It is scary.” He laughed and ignored the child’s plea. He was obviously in a hurry to see me. A few minutes later, an ear-piercing thud and a sudden halt was heard. Shards of glass from the windshield went flying in all directions. It was a nasty accident that claimed his dear life on the spot.
As luck would have it, my kids were saved. From the eye witnesses it transpired that when he lost his control his only aim was to save my kids. That he did and sacrificed his own to let my kids survive.
Again, I snapped a look at the photo on the wall and it made me very sad. I was reminded of the contrast in him as a very strict dad to his kids and yet strangely a very loving grandpa submitting to all the whims and caprices of his grand kids. The tears continued to flood my eyes now as I recall a loving dad who did not know how to show his affection. But he made amends by showering his affection on my kids. Strange it is but true of the inexplicable nature of a good man.
“Oh dear father, wherever you are, may you look upon your grand kids whom you have unselfishly and lovingly devoted your time and love during their growing up years. May you be their guardian angel throughout their lives. We feel sad you are no longer around to witness the imminent success of each one of them. You must be the proudest if you were here, and I believe it so for you were like that when we were young achievers. I love and miss you so much and I mean it so!”
Written for Thursday Tales
Nostalgia… May 27, 2011Posted by Amity in Fiction, Short Stories, Thursday Tales.
Tags: fiction, short story, Thursday Tales
When I was a li’l girl…I could only smile in sheer joy when I saw other kids holding balloons of different colors, shapes and sizes in their hands. I would close my eyes and wish that my poor mother would buy me one. But my wish would remain just a wish!
When I grew up, my fascination for balloons did not leave me. I would feel a different kind of heaven when I saw parties of rich neighborhoods and their long courtyards or verandas adorned with balloons of varied shades and colors. How I wished I would be invited and after the party would l go home with a balloon in my hands.
I finished college. I had suitors. But I had a strong liking for this man who happened to also have the same fancy for balloons – yellow balloons to be exact! On special occasions, he would gift me with balloons. I would keep them safe inside my bedroom, and then put some graffiti in them . . . like…etch my name and his name on it . . . inside a big heart!
One day…while we were walking along a busy road, five yellow balloons on my right hand while my left hand was clasped in his, a sudden gust of wind snatched all the balloons in my hand.
He ran as fast as he could to catch them when a passing bus hid him from my view. In just a twinkling of an eye after the bus crossed I could no longer see him. He had just disappeared. It was then I noticed that we were walking on a bridge and when I saw the short railings, I panicked. I ran towards the edge crying for help but nobody seemed to notice as it was almost dusk and only few people passed by the bridge at that point of time. I was certain he must have tripped and fallen into the water deep below. It was dark and I could not see him. Tears swell in my eyes fearing the worst. I started hating the balloons that moment.
As I was crying, someone closed my eyes with his hands from behind. Shocked I tried to wrench myself free but the guy was holding me tight. As I tried to scream, he put his hand on my mouth. I saw a car approaching with its headlights on and I fervently hoped the car would stop and help would be available to save me from this scoundrel. I forgot totally about my friend and prayed to God to save me from this molester. As the car neared, the man let go his hands and when I turned I saw my friend laughing hysterically.
“Did you fear that I had drowned? Thanks to your big hydrogen filled balloons that acted like a parachute, I landed safely. I waded through water to surprise you from behind. Let us be grateful to your balloons” he said amidst laughter.
I hit him on his chest with both my hands and said “I hate you. You scared me to death. I thought I lost you permanently. Then I got frightened that I had fallen prey to a sex maniac because of your foolish prank. As a punishment give me back my five yellow balloons right now.”
Laughing together we walked back arm in arm to the balloon vendor to get some more lucky balloons.
“Our soul mate is someone who shares our deepest longings, our sense of direction. When we’re two balloons, and together our direction is up, chances are we’ve found the right person”.-Richard Bach
Written for Thursday Tales
Tale # 61