December 15,2010
Mark was silently sipping his coffee laid back on a rusty cushioned chair. He is turning eighty five today. The room was silent... very silent that we could hear even his heart beat.It is not beating. It is talking. It says ,"Summer"; And every time it said 'summer', the next time it skipped a beat.
May 10, 1946
It was a long day. I was preparing to get to home by St.Edwards train like all other days. People called me 'hermit crab' because they thought I was a total failure with girls. The very fact that I haven't dated anybody so far made me a running joke at my office. But the fact was... I actually chose to project myself that way to the girls ... Cos I never felt 'She is the one' with anyone till then ever. Well... I did socialise with them, but deep inside my heart I ve always secretly disliked them- the 'plastic' girls that were covering nine-tenths of the population of Europe. I never found even a streak of truth in any one of their eyes. They always played superior- may be to cover their inferiority. I was constantly searching for innocent eyes; I never cared to whom those eyes belonged to- she may be African or American, beautiful or ugly,Marlyn Monroe or Big fat Betty as long as she isreal. Anyhow I never took much trouble to explain myself to anybody.
It was already getting late. I stuffed my bag with a few documents and books that I was working with and headed towards the station . I could faintly hear old St.Ed blowing his whistle and hoofing his cigar above his head. I was running faster to catch it for I can't wait to get home till tomorrow after work. I managed to reach the station in five minutes and was already panting. I was just about to get into the platform when she hit me while running past me. She hit me, muttered a sorry to herself and disappeared when someone shouted ,"Summer... hurry up girl". I did not see her face. But I sure did see her eyes. That was the first time my heart ever skipped a beat.
Weeks passed and I never got to see her. One Sunday afternoon, I was playing the piano for my choir at the local Church; my notes fell down.Somewhere between when I bent to pick it and when I rose up, I noticed the same eyes. Suddenly she was not to be found. But I know she was somewhere around cos... my heart missed its beat for a second time.
I began searching for her day and night. In fact most of my nights were sleepless. I never found her for another two years. As I was strolling down my road engrossed in a 'Summer'evening... I saw people rushing to a spot and some wails here and there. "Oh... my little Janey" cried an old lady- probably the granny of the victim of the accident. I was right. I ve always heard about a 22 year old girl fondly called Janey by everyone. I ve always heard how kind and sweet to people she was. I never got a chance to see her. And today, even when she was there I couldn't .. because her head was injured badly and all smeared with blood. I had a very strange feeling. Instead of sympathising ... I was empathising. I felt really connected to her and literally pushed lumps of pain balls down my throat. Two tears welled up my eyes and blurred the whole scene.
I could never sleep. I rushed back to the hospital when she was getting discharged. I was shocked to meet the same eyes again!- the love of my life. I slowly gathered enough courage to ask her name. She said " I'm Summer; Summer Jane". Her left leg was amputated after the accident. But will that stop me from seeking her? Never.
I lived fifty three adorable years with my Summer; in fact I met her in Summer for she was all the brightness of my world. And even during this cold winter time that is freezing my wrinkled skin- she is the sunshine of my life. Her thoughts give me my warmth- the warmth that is supplying life to my body. And as a testimonial to our happy life, Summer gifted me an amazing daughter with her very own real eyes.
December 16,2010- 08:00 hrs
" Dad... It's breakfast time......" , she said.
"Spring honey... Daddy is coming", Mark said as he rose up from his chair.
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