Our house is at the bottom of a hill. On two sides of our property are roads; one that leads up the hill and another that runs perpendicular to the first. At the intersection of the two roads is a bustling corner full of shops selling sweets, pastries, snacks and tea. At either end of the intersection are bus stops. At any time of the day, there is a busy collection of folks sipping tea, snacking or just waiting for public transport.
The edge of our property is lined with huge trees. There is one that I am particularly fond of. Apart from being easy to climb, it has a perfect perch from where I can enjoy an unlimited view of the road that goes up the hill.
My mom worked at the local college which stood at the top of the hill. It is a twenty minute walk and she walked to work and back every day until she retired some fifteen years ago.
Every evening around the time mom was slated to come home from work, I sat on my perch. I waited patiently, watching people walk by on the streets, get down from the bus or buy sundry items at the shops. At first I was a source of amusement to the folks passing by but soon I became a fixture on the tree and people grew used to seeing me there everyday.
Each day, when I saw mom emerge in the distance, I called out to her happily until she waved back. When she reached the front gate, I used to climb down and run to embrace her. As I said, I did that everyday as a kid.
One day, I was up on the tree as usual when I saw folks gesturing toward me. I paid no heed. Then an acquaintance happened to be passing by and asked me to gently climb down the tree. I obeyed. Someone had noticed a flying snake jump from tree to tree. It had landed on my tree and was barely a foot above my head. It was a fortuitous escape.
For a few days, I abandoned the tree and found a different spot to wait for mom to come home. But nothing compared to my tree and I returned a week later to my favorite perch.
No comments:
Post a Comment