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Familiar Sights, Sounds, Smells That Make Life Easy Now
The piercing whistle of a pressure cooker early morning. Breakfast is getting ready in my neighbor’s home. Not in mine yet. I’m still savoring my first chai of the day.
The whirr of a blender. My mind bets its a smoothie. Safe bet.
The sweet tinkle of hollow metal chimes in someone’s balcony. It’s only the breeze, no spirits are involved.
The musical end of a laundry cycle. The washing machine is calling. The music is the same as in my home, and it makes me smile. We’re still here, all of us, living and still doing laundry.
A sudden burst of music flooding my balcony. Startling, foot-tapping, impulsively dying. Someone’s music system.
Indian flat breads, hot and soft, being cooked on a griddle in someone’s home. I imagine a hot griddle on the stove, the rolling pin in action, and finally the soft round bread gently landing on the hot surface. Roasting. Maturing. Soft black spots appearing on its surface. The stray smell of the breads finding its way to my home.
Sugar and vanilla. Butter. Flour. Love. More butter. More Love. The platonic relationship with a buttery waft of a cake continues to survive. Unmistakable love. Undying.
