why i love sunday

Sneaking through the shutters the sun creates vignettes.Contrasts wash the walls of my room,covering my face like a veil. Pebbles of light.Batting my lashes against the sunlight,I glance at the small,red plastic shovel. From my garden kit, when i was 10.This is the beauty of reopening old chests from the loft.Discovering this amulet,my time machine,traveling back to reliving euphoric times with you.I loved that sweet smell of jasmine attar,your kind doe eyes,your fetish for dry fruits.All of it.On Sundays with you in the garden,I got this kit along.Sunday was never without you.You would hold my little pudgy hands,take me near the guava tree and we would plant more saplings there.I was always annoyed with you because you never let me sit under the coconut tree,water it. I complained,how much i loved the coconut Kheer you made of them. I wasn't even allowed to water it! little did i know the fear of sitting under it, i thought coconuts were always removed by Mali kaka and never came off without our wish. Kheer was award for innocence,you laughed. Your black,kind,doe shaped eyes twinkled. I loved them.Your love for me was so pure, untarnished.You even kissed my mud stained face;ruffling my already messed up hair so that the cofetti of yellow, miniature leaves that had decorated it fell off.Then tired i would retire for an afternoon nap in your lap, after the most scrumptious meal you rewarded me with. Ofcourse not forgettting the kheer,a blend of my innocence and you sugary love. My disgust for you not letting me work under the coconut tree was bribbed by dry fruits. Today is sunday and its your birthday,so many sundays have stormed by after you left. Every sunday i miss you!i Love you Grandma.