My Feeble Attempts at Fictions.
Friday, 11 November, 2011

Cherries #Day11

My son brought me to this general store to do grocery shopping. I am new to this country, thus checking out the stores and the operating systems.  

Cherries. I stop at the counter and stare at them.

Whenever I see cherries, they always remind me of him. He used to bring them for me at our secret meeting place- the back of the thick banyan tree, only to snatch them from my hand and eat them all. 

We grew up together in a small town of Himachal Pradesh. Calling it a town would be an overstatement. A small colony developed for the officers of the Board. My father was an officer too, very much like his. 
I don't know about his present or past whereabouts. There was no Facebook or email when we last met. Or should I say when we separated. 
'Mom, lets go!' The son wants to go. I pick a handful of cherries and walk towards the billing counter.

4 Wisecracks (Comment here):

Punkster said...


Nimue said...

sweet memories of sweeter cherries...

Richa said...

@ Punky *bows down*

@ Nimue :)

Anonymous said...

some memories keep beckoning at every stage of life. sometimes smiles and sometimes pain comes back