She started fidgeting with her hands. It shouldn’t take so long to fix a window. The noise and disorderliness made her cringe. Were there still some specks of dust on the glass? These people couldn’t do anything right. She looked at the clock. It had a tendency of running faster than usual when she was agitated. She didn’t want her husband to come home to such chaos. Looking at her hands, she noticed that her wedding ring needed to be polished. She had worked so hard to ensure that everything had been perfect for 11 years of their marriage. This was her dream home, towering away from the commotion of the world, closer to the tranquility of the clouds; windows big enough to allow the heavens in. Windows. Everything was in place but this one window. One window couldn’t spoil it all.
Her eyes darted to the clock again. It looked lopsided. Or was she imagining it? Everything was going wrong. She squirmed. There was the same old shortness of breath that she felt ever so often. Her heart started beating faster; she felt claustrophobic. Schedules were made to be followed. This wouldn’t do. Her hands were sweaty and she couldn’t find her handkerchief. Today had to be among the worst days of her life. “You should leave. You can finish the work tomorrow,” she blurted out. They shrugged, “Take care not to lean on the window. It is not completely fixed yet.”
She got a footstool and aligned the clock. The doorbell rang. She rushed to put the footstool back. The doorbell rang again. She frowned; he knew she didn’t like this kind of a rush. “I crossed the workers on their way out,” her husband said as he entered. “I thought it would take longer to fix the window.” There was a small feather stuck to his shoe. He briskly went to the bedroom. She followed, unable to confess that the work was incomplete. Her attention was caught by the white feather; it pricked her eyes. All her efforts of being perfect were to be ruined. She looked on mortified as he placed a hand on the window and bent over. A faint sound of crashing glass broke the serene silence of her dream house. She wiped off a speck of red on the window sill with a finger making a mental note to get her wedding ring polished later.
Picture courtesy - http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/87/Model_window_silhouette.jpg
Hi Shruthi...I read all your blogs. This comment is not blog specific but a general comment. Normally I would like a piece of literature to rest with me...would like to nimble over it before reacting. So this is not a spontaneous reaction. What I want to tell you is...you have a "gift" for expressing yourself. People either have it or do not have it. Please nurture this gift. Try to look dipper in to the subject. Give yourself more space. I like what I read and would definitely love to read more from you. God bless you.
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