Tag Archives: Daily Prompt

Disrupt

Son practically disrupted my day’s routine. I plan my day when he lets me know his agenda before leaving for work. If he is going to come back for lunch, I make preparation for it. If he tells me he will be returning later in the evening, then I do the cooking just before he is back, to have something fresh for him to eat, and I don’t have to reheat to spoil the taste of the food.

Yesterday he was back against my expectation. He wanted me to get ready in five minutes to get our Mass (Massachusetts) IDs’, and number plates for our cars. Our titles were left in a Houston locker. Last week he flew there to get them, hence the delay. For the past three weeks he has been using my ancient car, and pushing up the mileage to my dismay over it. The sticker on his car had expired, so he couldn’t drive his own.

Yesterday because of the disruption, I left the chicken on the counter to defrost– which is not a good thing. Defrosting should be only done in the fridge for meat products. I forgot to put it back in the fridge, while we left in a hurry.

Thankfully I have got my car back from the clutches of dear Son, and all the paperwork done. Hopefully we will soon get our DLs, meanwhile using the temporary ones. We got our Mass number plates. Mine goes well with the color of my car, and that is the color red. Son kept joking what will I do, if I’m told to have a test again. I hate parallel parking. Son had given me a hard time when he tutored me for three weeks when I got my driving license in Houston, and I couldn’t get the hang of it.

He would take me to the local mosque to practice in it’s driveways, while he would be inside praying. Fortunately beforehand I confessed to the lady who was going to take my test. She assigned me an instructor. He taught me in a course of five minutes what I had to do which Son had been unable to impart during three weeks, and in the process making me feel a dimwit. That was my ordeal, which I’m never going to forget.

He keeps eying my car because of its’ low mileage, and prefers using it, whereas I adamantly refuse to part with mine. I love what belongs to me. Shukr Alhumdulillah!

Disrupt

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Rush

Dinner time at the mosque

Why is it when you have to get ready, and plus cook something to take along as your contribution to an evening fare at the mosque, friends, and family phone you? I’m dying to talk to anyone, and nobody remembers me. Suddenly everybody starts phoning on the very day you don’t need them to call, and there is an influx of calls.

I tell myself I will only talk for a minute, and the minute extends to three hours. Can you believe it?

When Son called to ask, “Mom! Are you ready?” I wasn’t.

I was lying on my bed with both feet atop pillows, still talking on the phone. It was embarrassing . I rushed to get dressed. We reached the mosque for the evening prayer which is called Maghreb Prayer. After that plastic sheets were laid on the carpet for women, and kids to have food. The men had their upstairs.

After food, we waited for the night prayer which is called Isha. Meanwhile we chatted till the muezzin called for the Isha Prayer. Done with prayer, we took our leave. It was snowing outside, and terribly cold.

Rush

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Frigid

I have a video of it in a VHS cassette. It’s lying in the spare room, which used to be my sewing room. It now holds all the household junk with which I can’t part. Some day, and somewhere in the realms of my mind there lurks a hope — maybe the things there turn out to be useful. I’m sure that’s not the case, but still I can’t throw away.

My late husband, my dear, darling daughter, and I had gone to spend a few days in the Northern Areas. I don’t remember the exact location for it’s truly a long while ago —but it definitely holds a place in memory.

They had a bet that if Nola held her finger in the frigid water of the stream for five minutes, she would get five thousand bucks. She had several attempts at it, laughingly allowed by her father each time she wanted another try.

She was sourly disappointed!

Frigid

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Explore

Wanting to take a photo of the lake, I couldn’t go through. The area was off limits by the plastic rope going round the trees.

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Taking a photograph while in a car, traveling at top speed isn’t a good option. Son for once took pity on me. He took a detour, and stopped at some parking space to let me explore the place in hunt for some photographs.

Looking for a way down to the shore, I came across the rope extending over a large area, and couldn’t find a way down. Highly disappointing! I climbed back into the car to continue with the journey.

Son for once sensed my acute disappointment. He stopped suddenly in front of a house on which there was a for sale sign. There were wooden steps downward to the shore. The ducks in the water were doing their own exploration.

Explore

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Toxic

North Scituate. On the way to Hartford.

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When Son accepted a job at Cape Cod, both of us had mixed feelings. We were happy that he would be no longer jobless. I was bearing the burnt of it, and watching my account dwindling to zero. The second uppermost feeling was utter wretchedness at leaving Houston. Son never wanted to leave Houston, but what could he do? He wasn’t getting one to his liking.

His children lived in Houston with his ex. By moving away, he wouldn’t be able to see them very often—specially IB (the youngest one). I was extremely sad when saying farewell to him. I shed tons of tears before leaving, knowing it would be quite a while before I could see IB again.

We thought we would be living in Fall River. It had such a lovely sound to it, whereas the sound of New Bedford (where at present we live) wasn’t very charming.

Recently Son asked me to accompany him to Hartford for a change. We were passing through Fall River, and I espied a strange looking dome. “What is that?” I asked. “A cooling tower”, was Son’s reply. Oops! the water from it drained into the river, and lakes.

” Isn’t it toxic?”

Why can’t they build Nuclear Energy Plants away from human habitations?

Toxic

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Warning

Snow storm outside

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We (Son and I) were looking forward to a visit from Nola (my daughter). Last we saw her was in Houston, about six months back. She came for a brief visit from Dallas. We were eyes deep in packing. Son had accepted a job offer in Cape Cod, and we were moving. Originally we thought we would make Fall River our home. Son searched for apartments, when he came back from Peshawar at the end of December. His joining time was 6th January. He didn’t find any suitable apartment, and decided to rent one in New Bedford.

Nola let us know that her stay was going to be brief, and she was staying for only two nights —March twenty first, and twenty second. Along came a warning for a blizzard. I was busy in the kitchen cooking her favorite foods, so missed her text about coming.

I kept glancing outside, and getting worried at the ensuing storm outside, and how she would drive from Boston in it. I wish I had seen her text earlier in which she said that she had postponed her coming. I was worrying myself needlessly. Anyway it was better to be safe than sorry. The storm was raging over Boston that day, and flights got cancelled.

Today I was thinking how quickly time has passed since last I saw my daughter!

DAILY PROMPT

Warning

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Betrayed

The land

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Betrayal is the worst sort of offense when committed against friend, or family. It strikes one suddenly, and unknowingly, and one never expects it to happen. It recently happened to me when stbil (step brother in law) laid claim to my home, and land in the village. He took over the property, and money left by my late husband’s younger brother who died in last November. Not satisfied by that he turned in my direction. I looked an easy prey to him.

I have aged considerably in the aftermath, and now wear perpetually a haunted look. I don’t want stbil to take over my home in my absence from home country. I’m trying to sell, but whoever comes forward offers very low, which is unacceptable.

Fearing he might enter my home forcibly, I removed my most cherished possessions to my city home. I had to enlarge, and enclose my upstairs verandah to accommodate my belongings. I gave away most things with my own hands, because I didn’t want stbil, or his wife to use them.

There is irrefutable evidence in the form of property papers, and land record as to whom it rightly belongs, but stbil adamantly refuses to acknowledge. I have heard he has now drawn bogus papers to prove validity to his claim.

I have left it to God. I hope stbil is punished in this life, and the afterlife too.

The outside

Betrayed

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