Never had a bucket list
And won’t have it now at all
Life speeds and goes its way
Can’t stop happenings after all
Failures dog my footsteps
And the rate of success too low
Why give myself a heartache
And make a list to show
What’s the 11th item on your bucket list?
I am sitting in my late husband’s village and looking after the renovation of my village home. There is no internet. I was hopeful that the village property which is worth quite a lot will sell. The person who was initially interested led me to assume that he will pay me in time. He was going to pay me less than half of what it’s worth. Now he told me that he will pay me half the money and the rest after six months. In return he wanted me to hand over the front plot of land which is commercial area and is of greater value.
I didn’t try to contact other buyers, and now it will be a wise decision to wait till I return to my homeland. But now I am in a fix as how to have a roof over my head in my adopted land. Thanks to a devious buyer!
I will be posting when I come back to Peshawar and look up what other bloggers are posting.
At the moment, my memory is in shambles. I am stressed at the choices I have to make –stay in Houston, or move to Virginia. The home I liked my son dithered on it to make a bid on my behalf. I could visulize myself there, planning fruit trees to be planted and a vegetable garden. Alas it’s not to be.
The one still available on the market is in a terrible state of disrepair. My son S wants me to make up my mind over it. It has got all the three good schools— elementary, middle and high, and S thinks if I needed to sell it at a later stage it’s a plus point. I don’t like it at all. It’s big for me — all I want is a two bedroom house and that’s it. S says I can work on it one room at a time. I don’t like the work it entails and my heart feels heavy at the choices I need to take.
Tell us about a time when you had to choose between two options, and you picked the unpopular choice.
Hours and minutes race by
I want them to slow
I am sitting with my problems
Here and now
Thinking over them, trying to find solutions
Round and round everything goes
My head and heart ache with the effort
Hoping they will solve themselves somehow
Write Here, Write Now
Write a post entirely in the present tense.
At the stroke of midnight
Where else I could have been
Lay dreaming in my bed
Peaceful and serene
I realized on the first of new year
Gone was the last day of the year
True appreciation comes
When you leave for far off lands
I am glad to be home — I love it here
Jan 1, 2016
Stroke of Midnight
Where were you last night at midnight? Would you have wanted to be somewhere else?
I have to take care of today, which what really matters. I don’t live in the past, and I don’t have time to ponder over my childhood. Please bear in mind that the novelty of a prompt is no longer there when repeated all over again. I need a home to return to Houston. I am racking my brain to raise money to get one.
I am trying to sell the village property which my late husband gifted to me in lieu of marriage. I know what it’s worth, but people think I maybe a dimwit, or think being desperate, I will accept a low, laughable offer.
It’s just like in Galveston TX. Outsiders who visit the place, fall in love with it and buy a spot. When they need to leave — no one comes forward, and in the end it has to be left like that.
What is your earliest memory? Describe it in detail, and tell us why you think that experience was the one to stick with you.
Worries and fears plague me no end
My faith in One God and the last Messenger
Is not acceptable to many
Who view Muslims as harbingers
To terrorism and anarchy
The hate campaign lingers
Who are they?
The terrorists and hate campaigners
Spreading hate, not peace
I wouldn’t be scared
If I lived back here
But what will I do?
Once I am back there
Tell us about the role that faith plays in your life — or doesn’t.
A Merry Christmas to those who are celebrating.
Three years from now — for me, it’s difficult to visulize — not good at it.
Yesterday I unfortunately bumped into the sharp edge of the outside sink on the terrace. I narrowly missed injuring my right eye, but it is very painful.
I wish for Peace and Happiness around the world, no more strife and an end to religeous witch hunting.
Ebb and Flow
Our blogs morph over time, as interests shift and life happens. Write a post for your blog — but three years in the future.
The one I created in needlework.
The Artist’s Eye
Is there a painting or sculpture you’re drawn to? What does it say to you? Describe the experience. (Or, if art doesn’t speak to you tell us why)
I was hungry, in need of sustenance and a restroom too, but I kept climbing the stairs stoically after my brother in law B. There was no elevator. At every turn I felt hopeful that I was going to reach the final step —- no such relief.
There was a painful stitch at one end of my side. We reached the roof. The rooms were in a row. It was bitterly cold and the wind blowing made me shiver in spite of my warm clothes. I said no to that room, and told B I would stay in the ground floor room which I saw earlier in a different Mess.
All the Messes were booked, and there was a shortage of rooms. I stayed alone in a different Mess whereas B and Shahida stayed elsewhere.
I had gone to Rawalpindi with B and his wife Shahida. They had come to attend a marriage. I had tagged along to give the necessary documents to the Army department concerned with it.
The officials kept asking why three and a half years after my husband’s death I had come to collect the arrears. Where was I? What could I say? I wasn’t in the country, or I couldn’t come?
The irony was that the department concerned was also on the top floor of a building. At every turn I kept hoping to see the final step but I wasn’t in luck.
…When all you need is a knife might not be ironic, but it is unfortunate. Add your own verse, stanza, or story of badly-timed annoyance to Alanis Morissette’s classic.