|On my table – Mangoes. Banganapalli|
The tears flow down my face even as I smile, looking at this on my table today. Mi, I feel all choked up each time I look at it, which is several times a day. That lump in my throat is never going to go away, I fear. I spent most of the day in the kitchen today, doing many this-es and that-s and something somethings. I shopped for groceries and put things away. You know how I feel restless if I don’t. Since we’ve had lots of visitors, there’s an abundance of mangoes at home.
I’ve been looking at this pile of mangoes, recalling how you would have simply cut them up, pulped them and put them in the round flat steel dubba in the freezer. Oh, how I loved that! Trying to cut a piece – impatiently waiting for it to melt enough to furrow through it and scoop it out. We started doing this the moment we could afford a fridge back in 1989…so excited we were. It was an Allwyn and wouldn’t make a sound – which worried us. How hilarious that was!
Summer afternoons, sometimes late nights – spent enjoying frozen mango pulp. Lovingly made by you. Even though you couldn’t stand the smell of ripe mangoes – because I loved it. Whoever heard of someone hating mangoes? And I gladly did the things you didn’t like to do. So well-coordinated, yet so different in nature.
Ah yes, best friends forever. Or BFFs as they now call it. What’s in a name though? A Mother is a Mother is a Mother. So glad you are mine! And you know I miss you. Always will.