On my first day at Nola’s home, grand daughter M5 came shyly near me to hug, and say “Salam ” to me. After a few minutes, she came again, peering closely she ascertained, ” You are my mom’s mama?”
Satisfied with my yes, she went back to eating her breakfast.
Picture drawn by M4.
Everyone has an important month in their life. Mine is October. My wedding happened in it. Nobody planned it that way. My late husband was in a different part of our country. He could only get fifteen days leave, and so whatever date he said he was available for the marriage ceremony, it became the due date.
Another coincidence. My daughter had her Nikah ceremony in the last week of October. We wanted laughter, and gaiety in our midst, and so we made it happen, although her actual wedding date was four years later on. Both she, and her would be husband were students.
My late husband’s date of birth was twenty sixth of October. He graduated from PMA as an army officer on eighteenth of the month. Every year we celebrated the event by getting together for a sumptuous dinner with fellow graduates, and their families. The tradition stopped with his death, as I couldn’t bear to go alone.
One of the saddest thing in my life happened this month too. I lost my mother as a five years old child. She died of a stroke on fifteenth of October. She was twenty eight. There is nothing sadder than children losing their mother when they are too young, and can’t take care of themselves on their own. The world is a cruel place,
Guess what? The planet 🌏 earth became my abode when I was born in the last week of this same month. I can say October belongs to me.
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My identity as a wife ended five years ago with the death of my husband. My identity as a mother continues……
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DAILY PROMPT
Identity
Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.
I took a few leaves from the mint leaves we bought from World Food, and poked them into the soil of the pot I had in the balcony. Originally I had planted mint plants in the same pot. While I was in Peshawar, the poor things died of dehydration due to neglect.
It was an experiment, whether roots would appear. They did! The leaves sprouted roots, and now the mint is slowly spreading. Son is fond of mint chutni with his food. Whereas he is happy, I as a mother feel happy.
What is it with mothers? When our children are unhappy, it seems the light goes out of our lives.
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DAILY PROMPT
Roots
Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.
There was a time, whenever anyone (who maybe didn’t like me, and would create doubts in my mind about myself), would say something about me, I would naively believe. I would think he , or she must be right.
I was terribly insecure about my appearance as a teenager despite having a cream and rose complexion. Hearing just a few words would plunge me into the depths of depression. It must have been of having no mother to talk to, or having no person close enough who could booster my self confidence.
I don’t exactly remember when I started disbelieving mean people around me. I stopped having doubts about myself. A few years back, one lady in particular upon seeing me would say, “What’s happened to you? You look ill, and gray!” With a couple of words she would make me feel sick.
The smile on my face would freeze, and I would think something must be wrong with me. That used to be her opening gambit. Then I got her game, and turned the tables on her. “Really!”, I would say, “But what has happened to you? You don’t look yourself!” She would lapse into silence.
Now she never says those words to me which plunged me downwards.
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DAILY PROMPT
Doubt
Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.
I look at my missteps and do get worried anew
What will happen to me next as my worries grew
How will I manage and stay clear of the missteps
I still have my fiery dragons to slew
Now I watch my footsteps as a mother watches kids
I do hope and pray to God I never have to skid
(Sheen-March2016)
DAILY PROMPT
Misstep
Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.
As a child I didn’t hanker after toys. I was more into books, and those I got without asking. There wasn’t anything I needed, except that what I needed wasn’t available, and couldn’t be brought into my life.
I felt sad when I looked at other children with their mothers. I also felt different from other children my age thinking I must have done something bad, so God took my mother to punish me. I felt a lesser person than the others.
When I would come home after school there was no one waiting for me. Lala (elder brother) wouldn’t be at home, and the house would be empty and silent.
The servants were indifferent. They would put the food on the table whether I was there or not to eat it. Often it was cold or tasteless. In the evening I was so tired I would fall asleep without eating anything.
I wonder now what happened to the food, and where did it go?
DAILY PROMPT
Out of Your Reach
Was there a toy or thing you always wanted as a child, during the holidays or on your birthday, but never received? Tell us about it.

I open the door, and step out. On my left is my mother, whom I have not seen since childhood. I don’t even wonder why she is here, and what am I doing holding her hand?
She is wearing a gray-black cloak. Neither her face is visible, or the hand I am holding onto.
Outside it’s bright sunshine, but I don’t feel warm, or cold. The land beneath my feet is dry scrub land. There is no one else besides ourselves.
I keep on prattling to my mother. I am not feeling any apprehension as to where she is taking me.
Suddenly we are going into darkness, down underground. I am still not afraid. Although I am in darkness, I can see the sunshine outside. Then I see my husband, who is calling me. At this point I am wondering why can’t he see me? Why can’t he find me? Why can’t he hear me?
This dream I saw 6-7 years back. My mother died in my childhood, and I never saw her till this dream. When I saw this dream I thought I will be dying, but I am alive, and my husband is dead.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/just-a-dream/
Just a Dream
You’re having a nightmare, and have to choose between three doors. Pick one, and tell us about what you find on the other side.
Audience of One
Picture the one person in the world you really wish were reading your blog. Write her or him a letter.
Image thanks to Google
The words are so muddled in my head
They go round and round to peter out
What do I say, what not to say
A difficult choice to write about
Mother, father, I have yet to decide
No decision yet, so I better be quiet
(Sheen)
Daily Prompt: Pick Your Gadget
Your local electronic store has just started selling time machines, anywhere doors, and invisibility helmets. You can only afford one. Which of these do you buy?
I wanted to buy the invisibility helmet. I can go out for walking alone in the evenings. Then I remembered mother. I lost my mother when I was five. There was a sudden hankering in my heart to go and see her. There now I have got myself a time machine.
I step into the machine. I strap the watch to my left wrist, take a long breath, and press the button, “Go.”
I have landed in the courtyard of father’s ancestral home.
Everyone is there (they are dead now). I cross over to mother. I hug her and kiss her face, all the while tears are streaming down my face. She is perplexed at a total stranger (that’s me), who is crying.
She makes me sit, and brings me a glass of water. I drink it, and try to calm myself.
She is not perturbed at the sight of a total stranger. In her days you could enter anyone’s house, and would be welcomed.
I catch sight of my three year old self. I am enchanted by my younger cute, self. So that’s how I looked.
I gaze at my mother longingly, wanting to go on hugging and kissing her. Probably she will freak out. She doesn’t realize who I am. She is questioning me. I tell her I have come from a far away place. I am trying to think of a plausible story, other than a time machine, cause I know she won’t understand.
Nothing comes to mind. I should have thought over it beforehand.
My aunt Zareen comes nearer. She asks me who I am. I am stuttering a sort of reply. At this moment my watch flashes red, telling me to press the return button. I am confused as to whether I should stay, or not.
No one will believe me if I decide to stay. I take a last look at mother, and press the button.
I am back to where I am.
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/pick-your-gadget/
See You
Flowers and Breezes 