Green, Red, Turquoise, Yellow, Pink… Paper lanterns, garlands, flowers… So much color! Samira has gone all out for this party. The Patels' backyard has been transformed!
I’ve seen a few images flash by on the web or tv, but I never knew what the Hindu holiday Holi, the Festival of Colors, celebrates. My take: the joy and hope of Spring Hence, color! Vivid, fun, beautiful color! And I love how almost everyone came wearing white – just to be splashed with colored powder or water. No wonder Samira handed me a white t-shirt to change into the moment I got here. What a beautiful party. Great music, smiling adults, excited children… Colorful, festive food. I think I have a new favorite drink. “Samira, this is delicious! What’s it called?” Samira, looking adorable and happy with pink and turquoise powder on her face and on her long, white, blouse, gives me a big smile. “You like it?” “I love it! It’s yummy!” “It’s called mango lassi.” “What’s in it? I know there’s mango and yogurt. But what else?” “Sugar, cardamom, saffron…” “I can make it at home? If I buy the ingredients, you’ll come show me?” “Of course!” “Amy!” To my shock, Carmen shoots me with a water gun! Green! Green water splashes across my white t-shirt! War! Jumping up, I grab my crutches and my own water gun, which has orange water. “Just because I have a sprained ankle does NOT mean I can’t get even.” Grinning, Carmen raises her brows. “Oh, I think it does.” She gasps, jumps, and turns around. Red and yellow water marks are streaked across her back. Emi, Emile, and Amir run off laughing and shrieking. I take aim. My orange water looks pretty good mixed in. Carmen turns back around and – surprise! -- Samira shoots her with yellow. I add my orange to the front of her t-shirt. She fires back with her green water. We’re all laughing. No worries. No thinking. Just color. Laughter. Joy.
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DON’T FALL!
Ooomph! There goes the breath right out of me. Ow, ow, ow! My shoulder! My ankle! I’m all wet! “Amy!” Thomas is beside me. The expression on his face… I almost want to laugh. Almost. My ankle… I have to blink. You’re a big girl, Amy! Do NOT cry! “It’s okay. You’ll be okay. Let me get this bike off of you.” “My shoelace…” “So that’s what happened!” He looks adorably fierce as he works to free my shoelace from the chain. Finally, he lifts the bike off me. I feel worse somehow, more exposed, and humiliated. I can only imagine how I look, sprawled across the wet grass. He sits down right beside me. “Here. Easy does it.” Gently, he helps me to a sitting position and lets me lean back against him. “What hurts?” Well… Suddenly I don’t feel nearly as bad as I did just moments ago. But… “Besides my pride?” He kisses – KISSES – my temple and nods. “Yeah, besides that.” “Umm... Everything? But mostly my shoulder and hip and, worst of all…” “Your ankle.” “How’d you know?” “It’s not looking too good.” How long has it been since I’ve been on a bike? The cool breeze in my face feels wonderful! And the ride’s a lot different from pounding the pavement when I run. It’s sweet of Thomas’s mom to let me borrow hers, especially since it’s a nice, fairly new one. Poor lady. She hardly had a chance to ride it before her hip surgery. But maybe I need to invest in one for myself?
Save your pennies, Amy! What’s he saying? I can’t help but grin at him. He’s so handsome in the long-sleeved, blue workout shirt that matches his eyes and his reddish hair shining in the sun. And that smile! But I can’t hear a word he’s saying. “What?” “Let’s go this way!” “After you!” The lake! It looks gorgeous sparkling in the sun. The park trees are leafing out, azaleas are beginning to bloom. Springtime. What's not to love? Cross the street… From sidewalk to sandy path, a bumpier ride. But who cares? Not me! I know where we’re going. Thomas cruises to the grassy bank and stops by our bench in front of the lake, underneath the enormous swamp maple. Yesss! We can sit and chat. Maybe even kiss… He’s grinning at me. Oh, we’ll definitely kiss. The grass is wet. But if he’s parked his bike there, I guess I can, too. Wait. What? My shoelace… What’s happening? It’s tangled in the spokes! Lean the other way, Amy! Don’t fall! Don’t… 13. 14.
Breathe, Amy! 15! Ow, ow, ow… Poor elbows! Does that mean poor form? Or that I should’ve stopped sooner? Doesn’t matter this minute! 15! I did 15 pushups -- NOT modified! Go, Amy! Still, I need to remember to ask Zoe about proper form next week. Progress! Would I improve faster if I worked out every day? But what about rest in between? And I need to keep up my running. I’m getting better and faster every week. Not that I don’t have a long way to go. But… Up! To the mirror! I suppose I do look somewhat slimmer. The elastic waist of my sweatpants is loose. My clothes aren’t all baggy just yet, but I’ve lost a few pounds. I’m getting there. Eating mindfully, reasonably, prayerfully. Running. Strength training. I’m finally getting more flexible, too, thanks to yoga and barre. Best of all, for the most part, it’s fun. Who would’ve guessed? Down, girl! A couple of weeks ago, you were ready to quit! But I didn’t. Keep it up, Amy Munro. “You played well today. See what happens when you practice?”
I hold out the candy bowl and Alex’s face lights up as he chooses a bag of gummy worms. Big, brown eyes, tousled black hair… A beautiful child who’s bound to grow up to be a handsome man. But he’s not going to be an accomplished pianist. He's barely scraping by. I suppose knowing the basics will be better than nothing. He practically bolts out the door. His mom’s waiting in her SUV. We wave to each other. She's the one who should be taking lessons. She loves the piano. Not that I’m accepting adult students! Phew! Four students back-to-back! It might not seem like a lot, but it’s plenty at the end of a workday. And I’m up to eight students a week with two more possibly starting next month. I love my piano room! Standing back to admire... It’s the one room I’m not worried about. With the two bright, yellow armchairs and a small, gray loveseat accented with yellow pillows, there’s plenty of seating. And I’m happy with the way my repainted, repurposed nightstand turned out. The gray paint matches the loveseat, and it works between the chairs, just big enough for a lamp and the candy bowl. Plus, drawers! Pens, worksheets, stickers, extra candy… And I was finally able to frame some of the sheet music that came with my piano with my garage sale frames. Eight of them – and they look great along the wall. Thematic. I can feel myself smiling as I tidy the room. I’m a piano teacher again! It’s a nice little boon to my budget, and I love the kids, love teaching them about music. Small victories! “The time…” I force myself to stand slowly instead of popping up from the curb like a jack-in-the-box.
Simon stands, too. “Thanks for the shoulder. My moaning and groaning have made us both late for work.” “Not if we hustle.” I hug him. “Anyway, doesn’t matter.” Stepping back, I look him in the eye. “You’ll take care of yourself, Simon? Call if you need me or want to talk.” A faint smile. Yes! Our talk hasn’t solved anything, but he looks less tense. “I will, Mom. You’re a great listener. Thanks.” We literally jog away in opposite directions. I don’t know about Simon, but I have a fighting chance to be at work on time. Forty minutes! Listener, schmisener. I feel so useless. But the situation is out of my control, out of my realm of experience, and, in truth, absolutely none of my business. None of which can stop me from worrying about a friend or wanting to help. Life isn’t fair. At least, not always. People make mistakes. And then they make more mistakes. People – people we care about -- hurt themselves and get hurt by others and we can’t get unhurt for them. Rushing through my house, I glance at my backyard and wince. I complained to Simon about my decorating issues for at least fifteen minutes without even asking "how are you?" Before even really looking at him… Stupid, self-absorbed, clueless… Kind words, Amy. Nope. “I think you’re worrying too much. What’s your hurry? Are you expecting house guests this week?”
“No, but…” I need to breathe for a few. Simon and I are, well, to say we’re running would be exaggerating. But for sure, it’s more than walking. Jogging. That’s what we’re doing. We’re jogging. And I’m out of breath. Embarrassed, I sneak a sideways glance. He doesn’t look too good, but I don’t think he has a problem with the pace as I do. There are dark circles under his eyes and I doubt his deep frown is due to my lack of patio furniture. “Can we slow down?” “Sure. Sorry, Amy. I’m not paying attention.” “On the contrary. I know I slow you down. Thanks for your patience.” He waves it away but doesn’t speak. “Simon?” “Yeah?” “What’s wrong?” He shoots me a glance. “Don’t ask.” What am I supposed to do with that? Clearly, he’s upset – very upset – about something. Would I be intruding…? Now's not the time to be timid. He’s always encouraging me. “C’mon, Simon. Aren’t we friends?” “You don’t know what you’re getting into, Amy.” “Not afraid.” His sigh seems to come from way down deep. He runs a hand down his face. He looks so tired. “My bitch ex is fuckin’ around with us again.” Yikes. Empty backyard. Empty guest bedroom. Hello? Anybody home?
If I glare lasers at the four boxes sitting in the corner of the small, square room, will they disappear? I’ve lived here for five months and haven’t even bothered storing them properly. Why, Amy? Why? It’ll officially be spring in a couple of weeks, but it feels like spring NOW. My first spring in my new house! It’s a time to celebrate! I need a new wreath – or maybe I’ll just redecorate the fall one? I need to plant flowers! And my backyard is as bare as if no one ever lived here before me! The real estate agent had explained that the hedge died in a rare, deep freeze. When I’d been offered the option of new shrubs of the sellers’ choice or to deduct it from the price of the house, I’d chosen the latter. Had that been a mistake? No! It’s my house, my blank slate. Do something, Amy! Add your personality and country girl know-how! Except that I’ve never planted much of anything and have no idea what will grow out there. What to do first? Backyard? Guest room? One or more of my family members will eventually stay overnight. But they’ll probably expect at least patio furniture as well as a bed. Maybe even a grill. Aaagh! “Thank you, Amy. That was delicious.”
I’m grinning ear to ear as Thomas and I carry our plates into the kitchen. I’m so relieved, I could dance a jig! He liked my Coconut Shrimp Curry! Thank you, Mrs. Patel! He turns on the faucet. “Thomas, no! Thank you, but I’ll take care of the dishes later.” “Absolutely not. It’ll take us less than ten minutes!” “But…” He kisses me and starts rinsing the plates even as I lean in for more. “Ten minutes,” he repeats. “Once we’re done, what do you see we take our wine outside? It’s a beautiful night.” Don’t panic, Amy! “I…” “The cool nights have been great, don’t you think?” He’s not looking at me as he lightly scrubs the plates. I take a breath. “I do, but…” “And it’s clear tonight, too. We can stargaze.” “It’s just that…” I feel so embarrassed. “Amy?” He glances at me. Shutting off the water, he turns towards me. “Is something wrong?” “Not really. It’s just that…” “Don’t look so worried.” “I'm not. I just don’t have any…” I feel ridiculous. “Any what?” “I don’t have anything to sit on out there. Actually, there’s hardly more than a concrete square and a rectangle of grass.” Thomas stares at me for a moment. Drying his hands on a dish towel, he pulls me close with a smile. “Good thing you have some really comfortable living room furniture.” Normally, that comment would thrill me. He kisses me, then kisses me again. And all I can think of is the blank slate that’s my backyard. |
She loves people, books, poetry, baking, and is currently obsessed with her new house!
Unfortunately, she's not so crazy about herself. That has to change. You've Got This, Amy Munro! Archives
April 2024
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