Empty Nests

He walked towards the waiting car, with his usual casual expression etched on his face. Only this time he didn’t push her away gently when she hugged and kissed him good bye. As the car moved away her eyes blurred and she walked back into the house, unabashedly letting the tears flow down her cheeks. He had squeezed out these 4 days out of his busy work schedule “to spend quality time with my parents ” as he laughingly put it ,to cover up the embarrassment. That is him. Disliking any display of emotions , she was remembering….

Two normal children growing up in a middle class family. The mother ambitious and idealistic ,giving her best to her children but expecting the best out of them .Her concerns were practical-cooking for the children, feeding them, disciplining them and above all coaxing them to be the best.She liked to believe that her children were special , although they didn’t show any signs of unusual brilliance, at least nothing that she approved of. Perhaps she wanted to live through them .She believed that Khalil Gibran didn’t know a thing about parenting when he wrote his famous lines “On Children”. Meanwhile between report cards and showdowns about poor performance, time flew by without any one noticing . When the children grew up and took roads less traveled, she stood at the cross roads thinking that may be Khalil Gibran did have a point…….

She laid down quietly on the bed looking at the mounted pictures on the wall,shimmering in memories, waiting for the next season when her fledglings will come home even if it is for 4 days……..