Don’t know what triggered it, but suddenly I am in a mad rush to clean up our place. Clean up as in not sweep swab dust – but get things OUTTA here. Maybe there’s truth in what they say about one glitch clearing up, allowing us to proceed smoothly with what we plan. I don’t know what my glitch was – maybe it was all in the mind. Whatever – I seem to be getting along nicely with the job now 😛 and of course, I miss my Mom’s presence, she would make it all seem like such fun with the continuous cups of kaapi, the conversation, the jokes, and the laughter.
I remember that time we decided to paint our house ourselves, because we were too broke to hire a contractor. This was over six or seven years ago – what with the loan payments and all, spending tens of thousands on an extra coat of paint seemed frivolous. But we were keen on the painting because of Vidur’s artwork on the walls. Then Mom of course had this brilliant idea of D-I-Y. So, with some rudimentary calculations we set off to the hardware store to pick up paint. Of course, we argued over the colors and reached a decision. And yes, we had a fabulous time doing it.
When Mom’s room was a pleasing lemon yellow – we stood back to admire our handiwork. There’s something very refreshing about a fresh coat of paint. The living room got a sober ivory – it still looks reasonably good I must say. Our study is a light strawberry pink, which I plan to change shortly. While we were painting the living room back then, I remember we received the news that one of my uncles had passed away. We felt quite upset. But Mom was in no condition to travel, and so – we did the obvious thing – just continued to finish the painting. Sury was also out of town at the time, and the day before he returned, we frantically stitched up matching curtains and cushion covers for all the rooms. Real bee-hive of activity our house was. I must get the trusty old sewing machine overhauled before it becomes a rusty old one. It is something Mom never wanted to sell or give away. Solid sentiment.
And so life goes on, as it must. Pain is quite close to pleasure – and that’s a fact we cannot change.
2 thoughts on “Spring is not here, but I am cleaning”
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just loved this tale, how spunky and full of guts your mom sounds, just like mine is, in fact. she is a pusher, my mom, and lifts my sagging spirits (the abne of a writer type) so often with her get up and do it attitude. thank god for moms like yours, and mine, and moms of all of us.
You said it, Abha! My Mom was terrific too. So was my grandmom. 🙂 Sounds like a matriarchal family, doesn’t it?