Skip to main content

HONEY BUN, SUGAR PLUM

The mid-morning January sun was bearing down on Jemma. It was unusually warm today and her summer hat couldn't help the beads of perspiration from dripping down into the garden bed she was furiously jabbing at with a trowel.

She tried to keep her mind off things, trying not to look at the house across the street. 

Why me? Why Jacob? Why not…

She put an end to her thoughts abruptly and continued raking the soil to plant Gerberas.The Buttercups were blooming and were Jacob's favorite. He and his friend Brian had planted these last spring for a school project. She ran her fingertips wistfully across each bloom as though caressing her dear boy.

Olivia had told her they would be arriving around noon. She abandoned the half dug trench, gathered the tools and walked hurriedly to the shed.

With moist eyes, she entered the cool confines of her kitchen and sat at the table, sipping an iced lemonade. It calmed her nerves.

She saw Olivia's car pulling into their driveway. Brian got out the back seat, gazing wistfully at Jemma's house. Her resolve crumbled and wild sobs racked her body.

Jacob and Brian, best buddies for fifteen years, went to the same school and class. They promised to stay through thick and thin, even signing up for organ donation campaigns held in the town. Both the mothers were aghast but in their hearts knew they had raised good boys who would one day turn out into fine gentlemen.

Everything was hunky-dory in their world until casualty struck.

A freak shootout at the school claimed many children while Brian, Jacob and a few others were rushed to intensive care with grave injuries. Tense moments later the doctor approached them and gave them the news of Jacob's passing and if they could use his heart as a transplant to save Brian's life. 

Numb with grief, Jemma had signed on the dotted line…

And today, Brian was walking on his feet holding her son's precious heart. A knock on the door snapped her out of her reverie. Olivia stood with a box of honey-cinnamon buns, once a favorite of Jacob’s and Brian with his hand outstretched holding a bouquet of buttercups, eyes downcast.

The moment was frozen in time and Jemma made the first move. Hugging Brian close, she felt Jacob's heart beat inside. A steady beat which said, “Mom, I'm right here”...

Her boy lived on through his friend. With this solace and relief washing over her, she ushered them both inside for tea.

When it was time to leave, Brian stopped by the fringes of buttercups. Jacob's project had won them a prize at the gardening activity at school.

Seeing the half dug trench, and the packets of seeds lying forgotten, he rushed to the shed and returned with the trowel.

Getting down on his knees, he carefully planted the Gerbera, giving Jemma a reassuring nod.

Out of nowhere, there was a slight drizzle of summer rain and a rainbow appeared in the sky like a heavenly smile.

(Word Count : 500)

©️ Sangeetha Kamath

Pic Courtesy:Image by Petra from Pixabay

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

ANAM CARA

The waves are soft and frothy. Laced with gossamer frills tenderly kissing the tips of my toes covered with the grainy sand of the rugged seashore where I'm sitting, wistful. A gust of briny breeze tousles my hair as I gaze as far as my eyes can see.  A flock of terns wheel overhead, their sharp, shrill cries punctuating the air as they dive and swoop over the surfs. A lone frigate bird , its crimson belly dazzling like a jewel skims majestically above, its long, slender wings outstretched as it rides the thermals high above the ocean. I absorb the sights and sounds of the late afternoon while absentmindedly scooping seashells beside me. As the afternoon phases, the furthest rim of the ocean is fringed in a gilded hem and the sleepy sun yawns, its dipping glow streaking the sky in a mellow tangerine and warm cherry. As I continue sitting there, the ships and yachts appear --specks of light from the portholes glimmering in the distance, reminding me of the phrase “That ship has sai...

BOKETTO

  In my quiet moments, I pause the world from its frantic pace. In that stillness, I wistfully gaze into the distance and just let things unfurl as they please. I let my thoughts flow, absorbing nothing. Internalizing nothing. And just like that, the strands of tightly woven twine untangle and the knots come loose. Today, as usual, I found myself caught up in the hustle and bustle of daily grind. I was rushing to get things done, stressing about deadlines, and feeling overwhelmed by the sheer amount of tasks on my to-do list. But then, I took a deliberate pause. With a deep breath, I stretched, stepped away from my desk, and walked out onto my balcony. Leaning on the railing, I looked down at the familiar lanes of my neighborhood, twirling around the corners behind the blocks of apartments.  The park and playground stood deserted at noon amid the cluster of flowering trees and surrounded by the hedges lining the curbs. I gazed at the sky, feeling the warm sun on my face and ...

ARIEL AND BLUE-BLOOD SHOES

  The waves crashed violently against the craggy mountainside and the moonlight shone on the lacy froths. As I waded through the water and stepped on the wet sand, I remembered another night which was many moons ago. The same glinting lights through the palace doorways and windows, the fireworks adorning the night sky like shooting stars and meteors. A royal celebration with all the works and the guests dressed up in their best finery and aristocratic jewelry. Of noble births they all were. Blue blooded as the matriarch had pointedly told me once.  That unholy night! That night of icy hearts and howling laughter, the echoes of cackling that followed me till I ran on wobbly legs to find my place of comfort where the land met water… Hot tears streaming down, I regretted those days when I lost my heart to a man so spineless. Had I not dragged him to the shore, he would have been a mangled mass after being torn apart by the piranhas and other monstrous maws.  How I regret…Oh!...

CHẠ̀WKHRĀW (Chxw̒kh rxw̒)

  As usual, at the dot of 8 pm, the Guzheng plays its stirring chords, the haunting notes beginning a slow sweep, rising to a powerful crescendo and alternating with a tranquil ebbing of melody surfing me along the waves of soul-stirring, yet a serene stretch of an hour every day.  I make it a point to sit right beside my dining room window to bask in this lulling sound therapy as my neighbor downstairs diligently plays on this zither, oblivious to my admiration. What a luxury it is to have a live orchestra while I savour the last meal of the day. It's a welcome distraction to the otherwise jarring squabbling of the playful neighbourhood children.  The Chạ̀wkhrāw of this– that the musical household might move one day is a foreboding thought. Foreshadowing this, deeply ingrained in me is the shattering news I had received upon returning to Singapore after an 8 month absence here.  The Ramadan festive season was fast approaching at the end of March but the apar...

HELLO FROM THE OTHER SIDE

The sleek steel grey landline with it's cordless handset gleams in the mid morning sunlight. It's only a fixture on the tabletop these past several years yet loved and flaunted for old times sake. Also, for the numerous times the handset had nestled in our palms. The vintage feel of it and the stronghold of memories I associate it with beats the smartphone by miles.  It has in turn been a confidante of our precious moments, some idling talk, some annoyance oh yes ! and all before Whatsapp made an entry into our lives and the poor dear was no longer in demand. The world was at our fingertips. It doesn't complain, doesn't whimper, not even a sigh, murmur or a slightest hint at a whisper of life for the past decade and more! Except… On Thursday the daylights were socked out of me! Lost in mundane chores, I had my gloved hands deep in a pile of soapy water scrubbing away at the breakfast dishes. The usual swell of silence was harshly rend by the landline from the livin...