Short Story Archive for Happiness:

wistfulness

there is an inexpressible sense of cozy comfort knowing that you’ve fully loved someone who even though no longer a physical presence in your life, still thrives as a crucial part of your mind, your soul and continues to lend impetus to your imaginatively woven scenarios of “what ifs” “if only” speculative tangential wanderings giving daily life an intriguing twist and turn – an intrinsic part of life’s fabric of you as a whole ..in a gamut of speculative permutations ..

renoir

 

sensual memories

sensual memories be it tactile, sound, visual, taste et al usually embed in brain’s synapses and triggered by relatable phenomena surface for pleasurable second helpings

… this morning as I was toasting thin slivers of pumpernickel bagel and olive roll I remembered the time when fresh off the boat in 1974 winter in Cleveland Ohio … I was driven to my first job by a co-worker on cost-sharing basis.

It was either late November or December. Snow was falling rather heavily…chilled to the bone being unaccustomed to such foul weather I was hastily bundled inside the toasty office and Leslie my kind savior took me to the kitchen corner of the office and toasted english muffins in the office toaster and made a fresh pot of coffee ..then she offered me a generously lathered hot english muffin followed by a mug of piping hot java joe…they were an absolute godsend and tasted like heavenly manna…..

hence this memory got imbedded in my head … on thinking back … I would relegate it to second place giving first place undoubtedly to mom’s freshly made paranthas just the way I liked them and later at grandparent’s home …the stuffed tandoori paranthas roasted to perfection in clay tandoors truly tasted heavenly with gobs of churned butter …aroma of freshly roasted breads intermingling with simmering pickles in the winter sun … all conjure a wonderful childhood with homemade lassi and/or
thandaii as the case maybe …. they take first place hands down

* lassi : churned buttermilk and thandaii : cold milk with crushed almonds, poppy seeds, cardamom and saffron etc.. .it is delicious
..

 

Journaling…mulling over certain words…

August 16, 2017
Lillian Hellman : Julia
“Old paint on a canvas, as it ages, sometimes becomes transparent. When that happens it is possible, in some pictures, to see the original lines: a tree will show through a woman’s dress, a child makes way for a dog, a large boat is no longer on an open sea. That is called pentimento because the painter “repented,” changed his mind. Perhaps it would be as well to say that the old conception, replaced by a later choice, is a way of seeing and then seeing again. That is all I mean about the people in this book. The paint has aged and I wanted to see what was there for me once, what is there for me now.”
..
these words quietly resonated as I rolled word Pentimento on my mind’s tongue while enjoying the sound of it … upon retrospection correlating events “as is” when they occurred and my reaction then and now after countless years… and underlying reason’s big “why” for my reactions at that point in time being in the very heat of the moment …..like Pentimento I wonder about the underlying reasons now and my resultant state of bewilderment admixed with anger and my unforgiving state despite my inner serenity ….have there been subtle changes in my views as I’ve weathered and juiced life to the nth degree enjoying it’s rollercoaster ups downs accepting all for what’s it’s face value and/or intrinsic worth..
have I changed my perspective in retrospect?
… some words simply grab mind’s throat and make you confront your pet peeves…
Let yourself be drawn by the strange pull of what you love. It will not lead you astray
~ Rumi
..
he’d said : I feel the sea in you and I rather liked it
color blue being my favorite color as my adored Blue Krishna is my soul’s sky with it’s delightfully pervasive blueness leaches into the sea spread that is my being
I further mulled over this thought “my being a sea”
rolled it on my tongue…
took tiny sips of it with my morning chai…
bit into it with my dunking tea biscuits …
a daily ritual
……
and then I remembered sea glass
shiny iridescent pieces of glass thrown by passing ships and beachgoers and as these manmade bottles smash into pieces …nature takes over in shaping and crafting them…
the waves sometimes angrily and other times gently nudge and heave over these pieces smoothening out the sharp rough edges and in conjunction with time gradually soften and round them into things of beauty …
tis a role reversal in a way … bottles to sea glass
At first.. bottles are crafted by man and in their second avatar it’s glass pieces are crafted by nature … unlike fully nature made wonders…often undone by man….as in environmental catastrophes..
now am wondering about the kelp and seaweed and the shimmering awe inspiring life in sea’s belly and it fills me with the wonder of it all…
I quite like being called a sea… thank you …
I’d even be happy being just a piece of sea glass found by simpatico beachcombers and lovingly cherished in their home on the mantel as one of their many personal favorite objets d’art
..
images : google

my three little friends

I simply adore the three little friends I’ve made on my street
Simon (his name is pronounced as Simone-the latin way) – he is half Latin half Jewish and same age as my 6+ grand-daughter – we do have animated conversations whenever I run into him. He knows me from day one -you see
Then Gabriel- (three plus) he is half Korean and Half English – he is too darn cute and now has a lil sister named Maya. Gabriel’s llittle girlfriend Georgina was in Italy for a few months but is now back and Gabriel is on cloud nine.
Gabriel- loves to take Ganesh’s name over and over- guess he likes the feel of it on his tongue.
Lucero is almost three -fully Latin with a crown of curly brown hair, and dark brown eyes and my heart completely melts whenever I see him. He now shyly replies to all my queries.
they are my treasures as they make me deliriously happy
Image is of Gabriel as a baby
lastly as I’ve lived on this street over fifteen years – the little boys from before are now entering college or already in college – these kids are unfailingly polite and courteous to me and a couple of them have offered to even help carry my stuff as I huff and puff up the slope as we do live in Park Slope and the slope is very much there !
one little Chinese girl Bailey who was adopted is very friendly to me whenever her adopted parents are looking elsewhere – they are rather reserved even though the agent who sold them their brownstone is a friend and introduced me to them !
guess it takes all sorts…

Vows – 55 word Micro Fiction

Carved hearts by childhood’s pudgy hands patiently waited for love’s caress.  Destiny had other plans.  Time brought them face to face at same airport.  Sluggish veins gained momentum.   Linked by facebook they recognized each other easily.  Both now unencumbered in sunset years, flew to Las Vegas to fulfill old vows.  Next revisited childhood’s favorite tree.

A surrealist masterpiece, René Magritte’s 1928 painting, The Lovers, (via google images )

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