Taking things for granted

It was a perfect evening for a walk in Fredericton, NB. As I stroll up the hill with my husband, a cool comfortable breeze blew at our faces, then I suddenly noticed the breath I took – a deep, long, strong inhalation that I felt it was the first time I had done so. Instantly, I thought about my brother who is fighting for his life in a hospital in Nepal. “If he could draw the kind of air I just did into his lungs a couple of times without the help of ventilation, he would be up and running” I imagined.

For the first time in my entire life I became so thankful for each breath going in and out of my lungs!

Me and the Pickle jar: Radha's story

I found a jar of artichoke pickle molded and rot in my refrigerator:

"A strange thought struck in me," said Radha. Then I started chatting with my pickle jar, sitting on my countertop and looking as impatient as I'm: 

Me: waiting for my children to pick the career they want, so that I’ll know what kind of future they’ll have.

Pickle jar: waiting for one my children to come home and eat me up.

Me: waiting for my children to marry with their boyfriend/girlfriend, so that I can finish some of my motherly responsibilities.

Pickle jar: waiting for my children to come home and find me still waiting.

Me: waiting for my children to settle down, so that they could take their belonging to their own place.

Pickle jar: rotten but still waiting…

Me: waiting for my children to sort out what they want to keep, so that I could give away the things they don’t want.

Pickle jar: can’t wait any longer; I’m out of here and in the garbage now!

Me: still waiting for my children to come home and give me some good news…
 
Radha tosses the pickle jar into the garbage and goes for a long walk.

The end.