Wednesday, October 15, 2008

The Wait

I see her standing in the doorway to the terrace with a warmed look. Following her gaze I see right across the road, into the terrace of another apartment. I see a toddler, playing with his mum and the dog. She looks down onto ‘Raven’ nuzzling up at her feet and realises what’s missing… ME.

To Raven’s utmost surprise and mine, she gets up with a fierce determination. She gets to her phone and a few calls later I see a smile making its way on her face. She then gets dressed, picks up her bag, tugs on Raven’s leash and out she goes. With her dog safely on the rear seat, she gets into the car and pulls out of the society.

A couple of minutes, she pulls in front of a florist, pick some flowers and drives away.

What I can only make of a reason for this sudden disruption of her routine is a RENDEZVOUS, but of what kind I still can’t figure out. For much I’ve known her these three years, this sudden disruption doesn’t seem in accord with her demeanour. But I anxiously wait to see what’s about to happen.

A good half hour drive later, she parks in front of a beautifully landscaped garden. She gets out with her bag deposited onto her left shoulder, flowers in one hand and leash in another. With a huge grin on her face and her dog beside her she walks right into the garden. She knows where to go, she doesn’t stop at location board… and she walks with a determined stride towards a bench. She sits and waits, and she waits.

She can see people walking on the pavement; can see children playing in their designated area; can feel the very heavy air pregnant with reluctance which comes with every stare, every look thrown towards her. But she waits.

Looking over to the children, she reminisces of her own childhood. She sees a mother of three pulling her boy away from a playground bully, and is reminded of her mum. I’ve met her mum only twice in these three years, only when she pulls her out of her scrapbook and kisses her with warm lips and anoints her with her tears. I know from where she gets her stance, from her mother of course. I must say she was a looker, a very beautiful and graceful woman in prime of her youth. I wonder how she would’ve looked now, had she not died.

Her phone’s buzzing in the bag, but she’s lost in her own world... moments later she realises and fishes for her phone in her bag. A battle won… a battle lost. The moment she scoops her phone out of the bag, the call’s missed. She wonders, for how long would she miss out: on things, on opportunities, on her life.

She calls the missed caller. “Where have you been sweetie ! I’ve been waiting here for you for last one hour. Dying to meet you and your li’l one…………………………….. ohhkkkay… …….. I surely understand….. Don’t worry…… some other time may be……. bye.” She disconnects.

She sits, pulls her sunglasses over her eyes and gets up. She, then decides not to let go of the moment, she walks Raven, plays Frisbee with the kids and rolls in the sandpit. I’ve not seen her like this... ever. She drives back home and waits twitchily for husband to return and tell him about her day minus the ‘stood up’, minus the 'wait'.

2 comments:

A New Beginning said...

Wait...and it gets longer.Full of wishes, full of desires , full of determination... to discover, to know and to realise the truth behind the wait....
We wait and time twirls in our lap, still waiting doesnt stop.. its a long wait..different for each one....

Subuhi said...

Very well said indeed, wait... the only thing that outlasts dying eyes.