I went outside at 6:30 this morning, surprised to find that it was so much cooler outside the house. I threw open the south front door and the north back door, then my east bedroom window and the west kitchen window, and let the air flow in through the house. I rescued the Bakersfield Californian from the sprinklers.
I sat out front in my father's chair, where he smokes, reads, does sudoku puzzles, keeps up with the neighbors, and watches me drive away from or back to the house. I gazed at the towering palm trees, which had been tiny saplings when we planted them nine years ago. I picked some fragrant jasmines and some not-so-fragrant roses for my aunt's prayers. Technically you're not supposed to smell the flowers before you offer them to the gods in prayer, but I always enjoy a good strong whiff.
The black neighbor woman, she was singing a lovely song, but stopped abruptly to bark at her young daughter, "You only brought one glass of water when there's two of us! That's why you're selfish!" Then they set off on an early morning jog together, greeting me with a cheerful "Good morning!" on their way. I wonder sometimes if the neighbors know who I am.
I heard my aunt in the kitchen turning on the gas stove with a tick-tick-tick-woosh, as she heated water for coffee. I can hear the difference between her and my mother because my aunt wears three or four bangles, some glass and some gold, while amma has always just worn one single silent gold bangle on each thin wrist.
I went into my mother's room and touched her hair because it's usually the only part of her that isn't curled up in a tiny ball under the blanket. Her room was warm so I opened the sliding door, pushed aside the heavy curtains, and then crawled in next to her, throwing my long legs over her just to be obnoxious and because it's my birthright as her child. She woke up with a start, but then mumbled "you're so cold" and then pulled the blanket over me.
I went and sat in the backyard. The neighbor's dog barked and whined at me through the wooden fence between us, and I reminded him patiently for the millionth time that I'm the one who pisses on this property.
Still fueled by that early-morning energy, I went back into my mother's room and ironed a couple of shirts for my dad and a couple for my mom. I don't like ironing, but then when was the last time I had a laundry basketful of my parents' wrinkly clothes lying around?
I sat out front in my father's chair, where he smokes, reads, does sudoku puzzles, keeps up with the neighbors, and watches me drive away from or back to the house. I gazed at the towering palm trees, which had been tiny saplings when we planted them nine years ago. I picked some fragrant jasmines and some not-so-fragrant roses for my aunt's prayers. Technically you're not supposed to smell the flowers before you offer them to the gods in prayer, but I always enjoy a good strong whiff.
The black neighbor woman, she was singing a lovely song, but stopped abruptly to bark at her young daughter, "You only brought one glass of water when there's two of us! That's why you're selfish!" Then they set off on an early morning jog together, greeting me with a cheerful "Good morning!" on their way. I wonder sometimes if the neighbors know who I am.
I heard my aunt in the kitchen turning on the gas stove with a tick-tick-tick-woosh, as she heated water for coffee. I can hear the difference between her and my mother because my aunt wears three or four bangles, some glass and some gold, while amma has always just worn one single silent gold bangle on each thin wrist.
I went into my mother's room and touched her hair because it's usually the only part of her that isn't curled up in a tiny ball under the blanket. Her room was warm so I opened the sliding door, pushed aside the heavy curtains, and then crawled in next to her, throwing my long legs over her just to be obnoxious and because it's my birthright as her child. She woke up with a start, but then mumbled "you're so cold" and then pulled the blanket over me.
I went and sat in the backyard. The neighbor's dog barked and whined at me through the wooden fence between us, and I reminded him patiently for the millionth time that I'm the one who pisses on this property.
Still fueled by that early-morning energy, I went back into my mother's room and ironed a couple of shirts for my dad and a couple for my mom. I don't like ironing, but then when was the last time I had a laundry basketful of my parents' wrinkly clothes lying around?
I love your writing. Please don't ever stop! This was beautiful.
ReplyDeleteIf you keep encouraging me like this, I won't stop :) Thank you, amor.
Deleteso vivid your writing! Agreed, keep writing!!
ReplyDelete