It was a sunny morning. But the clouds had just started soon gathering in the sky. And it looked that it might rain at any time, soon.
I was sitting on a bench in a park nearby my colony. It was the only park where we could go and walk and take a breath of fresh air. We were not so lucky to have such parks in our colony. Ours was an unauthorized one. It was known for its cramped population and worst civic condition. Not a single road was well-laid. Open sewer and dirt was usual site wherever you passed. But we were happy that at least we had a place to live in and a roof on our heads to hide from every kind of calamities of the city life.
It was my daily routine to come here and walk at least for half an hour. Rarely, I deviated from that routine. It was like my breath. It would keep me energized and invigorated all day. But as the winter had intensified, walkers had suddenly stopped coming in. I would also skip a day or two when it became unbearable.
Among the regulars, one was an old man of around seventy. I had hardly seen him missing his morning walk. For the last two months, he was coming here. Perhaps, he was new to the city. He would come almost at the same time when I came here. But today’s weather was unbearably cold, so I did not expect that he would turn up. Even, the gardener had stopped coming who had the duty to look after the park, .
When he appeared, I became surprised. But he looked lost and sad today. I remembered the last night’s bulletin on the television that it was the coldest day of the season and had broken the record of many decades.
It was the middle of January and all schools and universities closed. I was a bit relaxed that I would not have to go back home in a hurry and take the children to their scho...
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...sitting on the bench.
As he came closer, I rose to greet him. He said after returning my compliments duly, ‘I am happy that my son finally got my ticket booked. This evening, I will catch my train. I am quite happy that I am going to my village.’
‘When will you come back again, uncle?’ I asked out of curiosity.
‘Don’t no, perhaps, never. I would prefer to live there, than, dying here every moment in this stifling environment of the city life,’ he said quite resolutely.
‘But, what if your children asked you to come again?’ I asked.
‘I would ask them to come to my village if they wanted to see me,’ he said emphatically.
He took leave of me and hugged me as I was an old friend of his. I kept looking at him till he disappeared from my sight. It seemed to me that he had got wings and was happy to find his new freedom and his own space to fly.
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About the author:
It was a windy Saturday morning with temperatures well below freezing, and Chung relished these last moments of warmth inside the store before he'd have to venture out into the cold. Several thousand miles away from his old home in southern China, where temperatures fluctuated between hot and hotter, Chung still hadn't quite adjusted to Providence's bitter winters. That walk would be especially brisk today!
He fig-ured that the normal half hour walk home might take as long as two hours in snow this deep. And then there was the wind and the cold to contend with. The wind was blowing across the river and up over the embankment making the snow it carried colder and wetter than the snow blanketing the ground. He would have to use every skill he’d learned, living in these hills, to complete the journey without getting lost, freezing to death, or at the very least ending up with a severe case of frostbite be-fore he made it back to Ruby.
The arrival of winter was well on its way. Colorful leaves had turned to brown and fallen from the branches of the trees. The sky opened to a new brightness with the disappearance of the leaves. As John drove down the country road he was much more aware of all his surroundings. He grew up in this small town and knew he would live there forever. He knew every landmark in this area. This place is where he grew up and experienced many adventures. The new journey of his life was exciting, but then he also had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach of something not right.
As the man was taking a walk, it seemed like a very cold place from
When we arrived to the place, I could not believe my eyes: everybody seemed to be different. My friends looked even more willing to share their morning experience than ever. I received sincere smiles from various strangers, but it did not seem unusual. However, it really seemed like everything has changed. Even the birds were producing different melodies than usual by warming up their voices in the sunny trees.
However, I can recall, one dismal, gray morning in early November I started off to a city council meeting, as most journalists should do, and I was quite glum. It’s the type of day where a grimace seems etched into your face and you can barely drag your feet to get to where you are obligated to go. Sulking, everything seems to be purposeless. The sidewalks were ru...
In An Old Man's Winter Night, the old man is in a houes by himself. He neither has anyone to talk to. All that is there for the old man is nature. He hears the the sounds of the branches and that is familiarity to him.
Standing on the balcony, I gazed at the darkened and starry sky above. Silence surrounded me as I took a glimpse at the deserted park before me. Memories bombarded my mind. As a young girl, the park was my favourite place to go. One cold winter’s night just like tonight as I looked upon the dark sky, I had decided to go for a walk. Wrapped up in my elegant scarlet red winter coat with gleaming black buttons descending down the front keeping away the winter chill. Wearing thick leggings as black as coal, leather boots lined with fur which kept my feet cozy.
through the landscape with a cold that ached in the bones. Every blade of grass was held
The fleeting changes that often accompany seasonal transition are especially exasperated in a child’s mind, most notably when the cool crisp winds of fall signal the summer’s end approaching. The lazy routine I had adopted over several months spent frolicking in the cool blue chlorine soaked waters of my family’s bungalow colony pool gave way to changes far beyond the weather and textbooks. As the surrounding foliage changed in anticipation of colder months, so did my family. My mother’s stomach grew larger as she approached the final days of her pregnancy and in the closing hours of my eight’ summer my mother gently awoke me from the uncomfortable sleep of a long car ride to inform of a wonderful surprise. No longer would we be returning to the four-story walk up I inhabited for the majority of my young life. Instead of the pavement surrounding my former building, the final turn of our seemingly endless journey revealed the sprawling grass expanse of a baseball field directly across from an unfamiliar driveway sloping in front of the red brick walls that eventually came to be know as home.
One memory that comes to mind belongs to a day of no particular importance. It was late in the fall in Merced, California on the playground of my old elementary school; an overcast day with the wind blowing strong. I stood on the blacktop, pulling my hoodie over my ears. The wind was causing miniature tornados; we called them “dirt devils”, to swarm around me. I stood there, watching the leaves kick up and then settle. My friends called me over to the wooden playground surrounded by a sea of mulch chips. The bridge squeaked furiously under our weight. An unannounced game of tag started and we found ourselves weaving in and out of the wooden fortress and the trees that surrounded it. My shoe became untied and I took a time out to tie it with a method that no one uses here. We heard an adult voice; it was time to go in. We lined up single file, supposedly in alphabetical order but no one ever does. I liked that, I never liked being in the back. While waiting for everyone to line up, I looked up at the trees that line the walkway.
Walking, there is no end in sight: stranded on a narrow country road for all eternity. It is almost dark now. The clouds having moved in secretively. When did that happen? I am so far away from all that is familiar. The trees are groaning against the wind’s fury: when did the wind start blowing? Have I been walking for so long that time hysterically slipped away! The leaves are rustling about swirling through the air like discarded post-it notes smashing, slapping against the trees and blacktop, “splat-snap”. Where did the sun go? It gave the impression only an instant ago, or had it been longer; that it was going to be a still and peaceful sunny day; has panic from hunger and walking so long finally crept in? Waking up this morning, had I been warned of the impending day, the highs and lows that I would soon face, and the unexpected twist of fate that awaited me, I would have stayed in bed.
Growing up in a massive neighborhood magnificent. My neighborhood flooded with kids around my age to hang out with. Occupying the edge of this neighborhood was a large park where the neighborhood’s kids and I would spend most of our time eliminating their boredom. When this park would not satisfy our needs, there were
I brush my eyes awake, feeling the cold seeping in from my window. It’s 9 AM and it’s winter in Minnesota. Feeling sleepy, I stand up and go outside. I love the winter air. It always refreshes my mind and there’s just a cold bite to it that I enjoy. Coming back inside, I boot up my computer, hoping to enjoy it a little before heading out. The winter days swim together, phasing throughout my mind, and I fall asleep again, or I have woken up.
It was one of those days where you’re glad to be awake early in the morning, before the afternoon gets scorching hot. The feeling of the cool breeze gently caressing your arms and legs is always something to look forward to, and many people would be swayed into taking a nice walk outside under the trees.