I remember the day when I wore the yellow frock which had spotted little red polkas dots in the side and in the middle. It was a fine Saturday morning. The fair had just begun. Purple stinted white balloons with ribbons in the front.
Then came the toffees all glossy and round. The longer I gazed, the longer did they hold their charm. Staring at them for a good ten minutes I knew what I did want.
Turning to my mother, I pointed out the pinks and then the greens which in my head were already forming a long chain of beads, multiplying. Seeing me sulky and long, relented my good, not so old mom.
At last I took a bite of what turned out to be chewy deceptive gums. Nevertheless, savouring it all the way, along the gravelly road to my home.
By the time I stepped into the porch,
The sun was over my head. And that, along with the beads I ate, made my stomach ache. And then followed the scolds and the rebuke at my taste made in haste.
Twenty years later, there was another day which came along. In came you through the door, into my life, to stay forever long. Indebted to all the moments which led me to this day. Even the pink and green glossy chewy toffees, I devoured in the sunny morn that fine Saturday.