September 4, 2011


There I was, standing in front of the mirror. I was preparing to go out for dinner. I had my entire outfit picked out, down to the accessories. Hubby of course was ready to go anytime!

Then problem arose - I could not find my clutch bags - the black one, which was with my white one, and which was together with my cream one.

That cream one. It's special. Because it’s from Mom.

As a little girl, I would watch her get ready for dinner and I would wait not-so-patiently for the moment when she brought this special bag out. How I loved this bag. It came along with wisps of perfume caressing the nostrils, with makeup and special softness which enhanced a glow on Mom's face for the evening. I would wait for that chance when she would pass me the bag to "take care for her". Then I would gently, almost revererently, finger the beads, caress the workmanship, and admire the entire craftsmanship. Those were special moments.

It was a truly special moment when on one visit home my Mom handed this symbol-of-many-delightful-memories to me and told me it was mine. It's faded. A number of beads are missing. The faded cloth is showing in parts. But it was mine. As was all the memories. I am so, so thankful, even to today.

Yes, I found my bags, all three of them.

But the other two will never be as special as this one….

Thanks Mom

September 2, 2011

Where is She?

Do you enjoy children visiting? I do. Even though my home is not a totally "child-proof" one! (Visitors beware!)

Recently, a delightful little one came by with her parents. She was cheerfully bubbly as usual despite being a little tired.

Watching her stirred up the little child in me. (Or was it the former Sunday School teacher? Whatever.)

I started tossing cushions at her. Amazingly, she sat there without fuss. (Or was she in shock?)

More and more the cushions flew towards her.

I started to chant with each toss, "Where is Tina?"

"Where is Tina?" and another pillow landed.

Till she was no longer visible and I had run out of cushions.
Then, giggling and kicking away, she shrugged off the entire pile!

And asked for more!

Needless to say, she wasn't keen to go home even though we went through umpteen rounds of this.

The last I heard, on the next trip into the car to go out, she insisted her parents take her to our place again...!

Did I mention I like children visiting?