8pm.
‘They’re late’, thought she as she laid the table. Impatiently she glanced at
the clock. ‘I’ll be late… again’. She hated to be late. But then, a smile lit
her face as she thought about her nightly tryst with her … ‘friend’ well yes,
friend, love, companion. She relived that heady feeling; that touch of the
evening breeze on her skin – cool and refreshing in the summer, arctic crisp in
the winter; the intoxicating scent of summer tube roses that kept them company
or the Chrysanthemums that filled the winter nights with their fragrance. And
there was music, ah yes, the music had to be just right.
‘They’re late’, thought she as she laid the table. Impatiently she glanced at
the clock. ‘I’ll be late… again’. She hated to be late. But then, a smile lit
her face as she thought about her nightly tryst with her … ‘friend’ well yes,
friend, love, companion. She relived that heady feeling; that touch of the
evening breeze on her skin – cool and refreshing in the summer, arctic crisp in
the winter; the intoxicating scent of summer tube roses that kept them company
or the Chrysanthemums that filled the winter nights with their fragrance. And
there was music, ah yes, the music had to be just right.
She
smiled to herself then shook her head to dispel the image – later, she told
herself firmly, it’ll have to wait. Only after dinner could she give in to her
passion. First, she was a mum, a wife.
As
if on cue, the kids rushed in.
if on cue, the kids rushed in.
‘Hurry
hurry’, said she. ‘Wash and change. Dinner’s at the table’. Half an hour later
as the Husband settled down to the day’s news before the telly, she tucked the
kids in and kissed them good night.
hurry’, said she. ‘Wash and change. Dinner’s at the table’. Half an hour later
as the Husband settled down to the day’s news before the telly, she tucked the
kids in and kissed them good night.
Free
at last, she walked out of her apartment, out in the open air for her nightly
rendezvous – that one hour of pure, selfish happiness – hers and hers alone –
with her love, her friend. She sniffed the fresh air with pleasured
anticipation then reached for her iPod. Her friend was before her, waiting. ‘I’ve
come,’ said she breathlessly, as the road stretched ahead – silent, inviting,
encouraging.
at last, she walked out of her apartment, out in the open air for her nightly
rendezvous – that one hour of pure, selfish happiness – hers and hers alone –
with her love, her friend. She sniffed the fresh air with pleasured
anticipation then reached for her iPod. Her friend was before her, waiting. ‘I’ve
come,’ said she breathlessly, as the road stretched ahead – silent, inviting,
encouraging.
She
ran then, the pounding of her feet matched by the hammering of her heart,
drowning herself in the pure pleasure of the adrenalin rush of her run,
forgetting everything else – just she and the road, her love for all seasons.
ran then, the pounding of her feet matched by the hammering of her heart,
drowning herself in the pure pleasure of the adrenalin rush of her run,
forgetting everything else – just she and the road, her love for all seasons.
So do you have a secret hobby too? Or maybe not a secret, but something special that you do ONLY for yourself? To unwind, to have fun – just fun? Do share here.
Linking to Blog-A-Rhythm’s Wordy Wednesday.
