Skip to main content

Eternal Lives

I see him sitting in his rocking chair, under the cool shadow of

the cherry tree we planted all those years ago. Eyes closed,

a smile on his lips, he’s doing what he loved doing best..

listening to the wind rustling the woods that surround the old house.

Grandpa’s ears,always alert, pick up the sweet music of the dry

leaves crunching under my feet. He looks at me and grins.

I feel like a six year old all over again,making little paper boats

with him by the lake..

I sit at his feet ,leaning close towards him ,laying my head on his lap.

I open my mouth to tell him how much I love him

,how sorry I am that I couldn’t tell him that all those years ago..

but no words come out. I try again and again…

but words die in my throat,frozen,dead..

Suddenly I hear grandpa say “I know”.

My head shoots up to his face. He is still smiling,

the molten brown of his eyes swirling hypnotically ,

as if he could see right through my soul..

I can’t take it anymore. My thoughts are in a disarray

as all the images from the past dance before my eyes like

a surreal slideshow. I’m sure he too can see it.-

grandma kissing me for the last time, a friend walking out on me,

me arguing with mom and dad over going to the UCLA,

me blushing beet red as Scott kissed me for the first time ,

me squabbling with him over our relationship…

I turn to grandpa wanting to tell him how I end up making a mess

of my emotions and my relationships, how I withdraw into the

deepest corners of my soul at the first sign of crisis, how,

no matter how many times a day my boyfriend tells me he loves me,

I just smile back at him, how it’s so difficult to hug mom and

tell her that I appreciate all that she does, how I don’t run up to dad ,

anymore ,every time he comes home,and if this is what growing up

is all about, I wanted to be a child all over again!

Another “I know” hangs in the air.

He takes my small hands in his big ,wrinkled ones and looking into

my eyes he says “Break down those walls Emma. They’re no good

Before I can react, he slowly vaporizes into thin air…a blink and

he’s gone.

Big tears fall down my eyes as the import of what just happened

sinks in.I get up and walk towards the house drying my tears

and letting the night air, still warm from his presence, soothe me.

Scott is waiting at the door. I smile. He comes here every day

so that I don’t get lonely around the big house ,with mom and dad

away in Chicago. I run up to him and hug him,

whispering a heartfelt “I love you” in the process. He hugs me tighter.

I decide to call my parents up tonight ..just to tell them how much

I miss them. Sofie,my little beagle, is nudging my feet. Scott picks her up

and we go into the house.I lock the door for the night.

It must have been an illusion.It couldn’t have been grandpa.

He died 6 years ago… “Damaged kidney” they’d said. But the voice was

His…those eyes, the “I know” …all of it.

I turn back to join Scott at the dinner table….then something grandpa

had once said comes back to me…

People live forever in the hearts of those that love them

It makes sense.It does…


--Finally got the thing into "raga"after pestering P.P.C and A.R
:D

Comments

Venkat said…
Beautifully written and very Apt words[:)] kindles the emotions of the readers!! Hats off[:)]

Venkat.
Mohit Sureka said…
:) vry nicely written...moreso brings back past in evryone's lyf...

Popular posts from this blog

The white Rose

copper coloured pots and the chime of bells a vast blue ground. and lots of grass the warmth of an ocean the kiss of the nights sweet drinks. two loaves of bread. and iced tea... indulgent chocolate lollipopped glory... green and red.. and charming winds. dickens and wilde and a Christmas carol and sheets of paper saying "i love you". weak spots and strong.. and whispered songs.. and a generous heart that loves to share the blanket of dreams and you and me a word.not one. go on and on.. the eye of the needle under the brown arch white shirts.two.one long gone.. vague figures on the écran Gable and fantasies and Scarlett hues not tennis..but two sports shoes.. mighty winds of authority.. a one and a two.. an addled computer going boink!boink!boink! phone calls and giggles Recharged Questions ! "I am serious about her!" shared loves and lives. a deep green pail and herbal essences.. baked garlic and cheese olives and those scornful baby-corns the sound of "would ...

butterfly wings

butterfly wings flap.restless. colours abound.red.mauve. blue clouds.ice creams. white. the pupils widen in recognition. a smile.a pull. a force powerful that softly leads . magic.musical love. a sigh. a kiss. and the eyes, open and all seeing. liquid.rich pools of noir. pleasure. desire. much too long. and all those roses that are red...

Heartbreak hotel

Does it come with a warning? Or does it sound as brittle as the shattering of glass? Does it taste like despair on your tongue- ashen, dry and unpleasant? Or does it leave an aftertaste, bitter and nauseous? It's one thing to call yourself a beacon of strength and another to shed silent tears when no one's looking A failed attempt, and some more, and hope is washed away like by the tides of time. Corroding the light and heaping in darkness. A car Crash, a death, a black dress and mourning. is there going to be some light at the end of this tunnel?