Wind blew my hair, making a whooshing sound; playing a mysterious harp in my ears. A sound that sent waves of calm all through my body; coursing in my blood. The shore had always been my favourite place and the sand my favourite track, my red carpet. The grains tickled my feet as they waxed and waned, engulfing my feet one second and letting them go the other. Their warmth lingered; it always had.
I remember walking the same shore as a kid with Abba, hanging on to his hands, trusting him to carry my weight whenever the heat of my carpet became too unbearable. And then as a girl, when the waves and the shore ignited passions that I never knew existed. A desperate need arose in me; to have another pair of feet share my carpet. Hand in hand, ankles knocking…
Life goes on around in circles and so a time came when I walked the very shore with my daughter. But oh! How different she was from me. Like her father, she liked to keep her shoes on. I tried reasoning with her, telling her how good the sand felt; yet again like her father, reasons never worked with her.
During the past 60 years, these were the only people I tried sharing my carpet with. Although my husband and daughter stuck with me in nearly every chapter of my life’s story, Abba will always be my favourite companion.
Life had been fairly good for me. I had had a childhood extraordinaire, a contented married life and a lovely time playing a mother. Fate had scored me for trying to be good always, I guess.
A month back, I had a complete heart block. They installed a pacemaker. Was that the final score fate had engraved on my life’s canvas or a chance at a new life? I haven’t figured that out yet.
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©2012. Habiba Danyal
Word count: 317
This is a fictional piece in response to trifecta’s week 33 challenge, prompt two i.e.
1 a : twenty b : a group of 20 things
3 a : an account or reckoning originally kept by making marks on a tally