What a crisp, bright morning today was.
I decided to wear a bright red skirt and satin white shirt to work.
Tic-tack my heels running on the street;
I wave my hands for a taxi.
My phone rings, just then a speeding car stops in front of the taxi.
Jerk! I say in a loud voice as I answer the phone call.
Ooops! It was my boss on the other line.
She was holding a red watering can. The water from the can fell on the green leaves like tiny colourless bullets.
“Momme,” said a sweet voice and she turned to look at her little girl. “Yes, sugar,” said the mom.
“Flas, no flas… why no flas?” asked the five year old. The sentence – a broken speech – still, made sense to the mom. The small little fingers were now pointing towards a marigold plant.
“Sugar, momme needs to water them and take care of them.”
“Likes flas…want flas,” the little girl’s voice said with a little bit of sadness.
“Oh! My baby, come here,” said the mother and took her in her arms. “Now look, momme loves sugar and so….momme kisses her, reads stories for her, plays with her and then gives cookies to her. Yes.”
“Yes!” shouted her darling daughter.
“So, if you want flowers you’ll need to help momme.”
“How,” said the curious one.
“You’ll have to water the plant…” “…like momme,” interrupted the sweet voice.“Yes, but that’s momme’s job you are a big girl and you get a bigger job. Do you want to help momme?”
“Yes,” said the little girl.
“Then…first give momme a big kiss and then give a flying kiss to the plant.” The little girl obediently kissed her mom and then gave a flying kiss to the plant. The little girl now on her feet, started wandering in the garden. Her mom took the watering can and continued with her work.
The next day she could hear the sweet voice coming from the garden. She was a bit concerned as to whom her daughter was talking to. She ran in the direction of the voice. She was satisfied to see that her daughter was alone and not with any stranger.
“Sugar, what are you doing here? Mom was worried,” she said in a concerned voice. On approaching near she saw what her little girl was doing. Her daughter was holding a story book. It seemed, she was reading a story to the plant.
The mom leaned to kiss the daughter’s soft silky hair. She sat by the steps and watched her little girl read the story to the plant in her own gibber jabber language.
Emovere 