Pout, Pose, Decide

 

"This or that?" 

"Ummm" 

"Nah! My skin is not glowing today to be wearing this color." 

"Definitely not this...I seem to be having a bad hair day!" 

Mom's voice echoed from the kitchen, 'Maggie, your ride to school will be here in ten minutes!' 

'Yeah, I know, Mom,' Maggie replied with a hint of frustration and a sigh, 'I just wish I could figure out what to wear without all this stress.' 

Mom knocked gently and entered, noticing a pile of clothes on the bed as Maggie posed in front of her mirror. She gasped at the scene.

"High school can be so nerve-racking, Mom!" 

"It's your perspective, Maggs! I, too, went to school, but never gave so much importance to my appearance as your generation does! 

"You had simpler times! Now is the age of social media, so we always have to put our best foot forward!" said Maggie as she continued to pout and pose in front of her mirror in her bathrobe.

"Believe me, we had our own issues during that time!" her mom snickered as she continued to observe her 18-year-old daughter. 

Just then, they heard a honk, and Maggie quickly disrobed and slid a dress down her head, which had matching jewelry. With that, she walked out with a deep sigh. "Gosh! Life is so difficult!" she lamented as she slipped on her shoes and rushed out the door. 

A Candid Conversation

 “I wasn’t going to tell you this,” I said with a screech, then paused, took a deep breath, and noticed my brother eyeing me with furrowed brows and a gape, as usual.

There was silence, but not for long, as he quickly chipped in, “Go on!” he commanded. “I am listening.”

“Oh! for once you are listening, huh!” I shrieked again, hands raised, as I circled the table where he sat with his cup, holding it with both hands and rubbing it back and forth. His face was red, and his gaze was bouncing from me to the table, clearly indicating that he was controlling his anger.

That made me cautious, since his temper is like a tornado tearing through our cramped apartment, leaving splintered chairs and shattered dishes in its wake. It costs us a fortune to repair things, and I have to chip in as well, since it's an argument we're both involved in. The last one was so bad that I am still making my credit card payments, which were set up in installments.

Seeing his temperament made me very nervous, and my face turned white. My lips started trembling. Fear gripped me!

With many gulps, I said gently, my voice shaking with a mix of guilt and spite, “I wiped your toothbrush on the toilet after I could not pay my part for the repair.” I hated myself for stooping so low, but in that desperate moment, it felt like my only way to get back at him for blaming everything on me.

Patiently, I now waited for his response with a downward glance and a shrunken frame, muttering, “Que Sera Sera, whatever will be, will be!” 

The Park

 The park in my neighborhood has its own perks. It is not just an extended backyard for me; it is also a place to socialize amid nature.

Every evening before sunset, I tend to go for a stroll and bump into familiar faces, which has become my norm. Although we were strangers at first, we now look forward to seeing each other at our favorite spot and sharing a smile. As these gatherings have become a part of my daily routine, I’ve started to feel a comforting sense of belonging. Crossing paths with these neighbors makes the park feel warmer and fills me with hope, easing the sense of loneliness that sometimes creeps in. These meetings remind me that even in a busy world, small connections can make all the difference.

First to arrive is Marissa, a young girl who loves to sketch the trees and any activity happening around them. She sits on a particular bench and gazes at the coast live oak tree, which is home to various birds and bees and, as a result, is full of chirps that attract dogs and their owners.  

Next would be Mr. David, a retired soldier who loves to take his daily walks. His favorite spot is to sit and watch the trees and the play structure, where children hum like bees. His smile clearly indicates that he is reminiscing about his past, as do his occasional waves.

Next is me with a stroller for a 2-year-old baby. I try to get some fresh air and take my mind off the laundry, dishes, and all the chores that never seem to end. I let my baby play in the play structure while I get a breather on the bench, with constant eye contact with him.

Lastly, there would be a young, starving musician, Joe, who would strum his guitar while sitting in one of the benches facing the play structure. The soothing music would be more for people like me, Marissa, and Mr. David on the bench than for the children, who would be too busy using the slides, the swings, and the bars.

This music was the ignition for all the conversations among the four of us, where we talked about our past and our turmoil in the present as we hoped for a bright future. What began with strangers ended with a shared comfort, as the park, the music, and the setting left us with smiles and stories in the evening air before we drifted off in our directions. 

The Subway Station

 “How did you do it? Could you be honest and not beat around the bush?” I asked Lily, my face earnest and my eyes fixed on hers. She was like my younger sister, but life had thrown me a curveball, so I was focusing on myself, which made me drift away from her despite her many missed calls. But today,  I saw that bag, my concern for her grew, since trouble was her last name. By inquiring about it, I wanted to create the trust that had long been gone. We had not been in touch for months. That changed now, when she accidentally bumped into me. The bag popped open. Its contents flew all over.

Lily took a couple of deep breaths, and her eyes darted into mine as she began, “I was late for work, so I was rushing through the subway station when I tripped over a brick in the middle of the path. The whole station echoed with the rattle of trains and the hurried footsteps of commuters. The cold concrete scraped my palms as I fell, and the glare from the fluorescent lights made the bright yellow safety stripes blur before my eyes. At first, I cursed my luck because I saw my train leave the station. The screech of the doors closing mocked me as I lay there, embarrassed in front of the crowd. Then I pulled myself up and stared at the brick. Its rough, dusty surface felt gritty in my hand, and it was strangely warm from all the passing feet. People at the station asked about my welfare, and I merely nodded yes because I was not interested in small talk. I picked up the damn brick, hoping to put it aside so nobody else gets hurt. Underneath it, I found a key with a tag attached. The metal was cool and heavy in my fingers, and the curved edges pressed against my palm. The paper had clues we used to play with when egg hunting. I was amused. I had to wait fifteen minutes for my next train, so I went with the flow. The paper read, ‘keep the brick on the side where there is a wall.’ That made me walk all the way around the station to find a wall. Both sides have trains coming and going. The smell of grease and metal followed me as I moved past the vibrating tracks. I found a wall that led to a door to a room. The wall was rough, with peeling paint that dusted my knuckles as I brushed against it. As I kept the brick there, the wall read, ‘don’t be shy, enter the room,’ which I did, but with hesitation, after a couple of knocks and no answer. The door creaked open, its old hinges groaning in protest. Inside, it was dim, with the faint musty smell of forgotten things. I found a trunk with a big lock. The trunk was old, battered, and the wood felt dry and splintery under my fingers. It confused me, but then the key in my hand made me think of unlocking it. To my surprise, it did. I looked outside the room, hoping to see someone, but when I peeped out, everyone was just running about their business. I opened the trunk and found a bag with a thank-you note on it. The bag was velvet, soft and a little dusty, and inside I found these gems. They were cool and smooth, catching every bit of stray light and throwing small rainbows across my hands. Just then, I heard the announcement of the upcoming train, which happened to be mine to work. I quickly grabbed the bag and darted toward my train when I bumped into you, who, as usual, always thought of me up to some mischief.”

“Your gesture to clear the path was rewarded handsomely,” I said with enthusiasm. I helped her quickly put those precious stones back in the bag. Then we boarded the train. That train journey helped us patch up the lost time and revive our friendship. It was a win-win situation for both of us!