A Morning in 2012.

Everyday started with a sense of rush and a little bit of dawdle. Call it a typical day in my life when I was 12. Now I feel the 12 year old me was too lucky for having all the time in the world to have fun yet she decided being a little too matured for her age. Hurrying, fighting with my brother to claim the bathroom, running from an end to the other in our house searching for a sock, we never realized that these days would end up being just a reactivation of specific neurons in our brains. Memories we call them.

And there she comes, my dearest dolly. She wasn’t just a four legged fur bear, she had a heart made of warmth and comfort. All my life I was with this little lady who welcomed immense joy, happiness, care and love. Plus, we had plenty of chances to love her puppies who weren’t the exact reflection of her, yet we loved them equally.

Impelling me and brother to eat our breakfast and drink protein milk, amma always made sure we both always had an apple in our hands while getting into our school auto (She made us realize that an apple a day keeps the doctor away!). Pappa had taken up the job of ironing our clothes, soaking almonds so that we had better brains, and sometimes making us an awful breakfast which we anyways loved it. I miss those days.