The guava tree

The shopping is utterly irresistible. Her sister is gone and she is next in line .We see the bone-dry fear in the whites of her eyes. But why talk of death, probable leave-taking? These people have sinister designs to deprive her of the joy of being alive.

The last time she went shopping she had a minor sprain in her ankle .The doctor made such a ruckus. Come to think of it, she believes she could cook food for twenty. A walking stick? Who needed one?

A thought comes like a yellow autumn leaf riding down layers of air. Her sister gone, she is next in line. But she has a lot of things to do yet .

There is so much to celebrate – the resplendent colors of crisp cottons and sheer joy of feeling their sheen and a thousand joyful flippancies. One haggles deliciously while feeling their smooth texture and still complain of quality. A Saturday shopping expedition followed by hot snacks at the roadside restaurant ,warm summer days of family reunions ,ambient evenings of perfumed weddings.

She crinkles her eyes to peer through the sky-spaces of the old guava tree, in the backyard of her ancient house .It is all the same and nothing has changed .So much to do and so much to celebrate.