Went shopping today, Mi. Okay that’s a euphemism for what I went. I strolled 9th cross today and was just thinking of our flowerlady when I just stopped, midstride, frozen. For, what I saw was a neat row of crates with veggie along the sidewalk. […]
Memories from another day . . .
I decided to wash some clothes today.
I suppose I could have washed on a daily basis, but then, with clothes that can be machine washed, why bother?
So I waited till the weekened to build up a load. Then of course, I took one guilty look at my special “Hand Wash” laundry bin and driven by the same emotion, got cracking. Just for fun, I picked up all the bottoms – the salwars, churidars, leggings, jeggings, jeans – in a bucket – every little matters! Later when the machine was done, I hung the clothes out to dry, after which I got on with the hand-washing.
I fondly remembered those days when you said you enjoyed washing my clothes during the weekends while I tackled the saris and starching them, remarking that they all smelled great while washing, probably because of the perfume and when out drying on the clothes line, looked so colorful!
That thought took me back even farther in time to those days in Madras when we would go to our terrace to hang out the clothes and also air dry our hair. By the time our hair dried, so would the clothes! And the saris looked so comic, all stiff with starch and ready to be ironed. What a project that was!
With so many options these days, I refrain from wearing cotton saris simply because I am too lazy to go through the starch routine. Miss the old dhobis – these days the laundry is so expensive when we outsource it! Even K charges Rs.5 per item just for ironing and of course has special rates for saris, based on the material.
So anyway, imagine my pique when I returned to the verandah with the three buckets of handwashed clothes! Hmmm. Dilemma. Not enough space to hang them all out. So after using the available space, I got the clothes hangers out and used those to hang some of the salwars. Mission accomplished in creating a mini dhobi ghat.
And? The punchline? No sooner than I bathed, had lunch and settled down than it clouded over outside and the rain poured down in sheets, thank you very much.
Ah well, it isn’t as if I don’t have indoor projects to tackle. Ha ha.
I am going to first just brew it, then just do it.
Vidur is slowly settling into his new life, Mi. You’d be proud of him. I think it is always harder for us as parents to adjust. Children obviously will face challenges, struggle and try to tackle them in their own way, and then carry on as they get busy with several things. We’re the ones who make the time to reminisce and miss them every minute of the day.
Today, when I went for a walk and came back home, I saw his house slippers under the stool by the entrance and called out to him, only to realize that he was too far to hear. Silly me. So it is with every inch of the house, really, because his stuff is everywhere.
I’ve slowly begun to go through each room to purge/donate things that can we can let go of. I am glad Vidur is not as sentimental as I am in terms of objects. He’s happy to give away stuff he will no longer use or need and is able to make quick decisions over those. Me, ugh. Not so much. So what I am now doing is making sure I give at least three things away every day. I started with art supplies and school stuff and I am enjoying the smiles I receive in return. So worth it.
I decided to stack Vidur’s schoolbook shelf and pack away the old books for him to check when he is home for the hols. My reward? Coming across his sketches in the unlikeliest of places. Sheets of poetry and songs composed by him. Love the sight of his handwriting all over the place!
As I spring clean, my mind and heart enjoy the memories. In a way, it is good that the memories are fresh in my mind as he carries on, moving forward, growing up.
I treasure my memories, just as you did yours as I grew up. I am thinking of all the exotic food I’ll make for him when he comes home. So typical, eh? Somehow it all boils down to food. But then, that’s how we feed children good things. I smile, thinking of how I would fill him with advice and good words when he sat and ate, hoping it would be food for thought. And his expression as he listened, busy chomping away, so sweet and accepting.
As I sit and eat alone now, I imagine the delightful sound of his laughter, watching comedy shows together. I love it when he asks me what I cooked every day when I talk to him and I regale him with the boring details of my day. Funny how routine becomes so precious and we notice the trivial stuff with new eyes and appreciation.
Treasured moments that will keep me going and looking forward to good times soon.