Wednesday, 14 November 2012

Point of view story

Every Sunday morning in Germany a cold summer breeze would pass through my hair and tickle my neck; the trees would whisper with the wind. Leaves blew on the uneven tiled sidewalk that was black as night. I would chuckle softly hearing the wind roar in my ears. My great Grandpa would look at me his grey eyebrows lifting slowly like a dust bunny, and his tired eyes opened, like a rolli pollie coming out of its ball, confused. He looked like a sad man, the wrinkles at the side of his mouth dragged his smile down, but I couldn’t think of someone happier than my great grandpa. We walked to the cart, his feet would loudly meet the ground, while I would be barely on my toes skipping beside barely making a sound on the pavement. We went around the corner, the sidewalk suddenly straight. There was a bright pink cart, it was so bright it stood out, of the cold grey day.


There was the lady who owned the cart, with a light princess pink apron, with the funny oval  hat, shaped like a baboon's butt. Her eyes were the color of the sky that day, her hair Black, I’ve never seen hair so dark, with her bright red lipstick, which drowned all the color from her skin. We were at the outdoor market, there was the sound of children playing on the black playground, birds chirping and mothers buying bread for breakfast. The lady had a  soft meadow voice, she asked me what cupcake I wanted. It was bloodshot red, that creamy silky goodness, that swirled on top, I couldn’t resist, it was screaming my name. I wrapped my teeth around it, closed my eyes and sunk my teeth in slow. I opened my eyes and I had thick creamy icing on my mouth. That bite could barely fit in my mouth. I probably looked like a chipmunk with a bunch of cupcake stuffed in my mouth, looking like my cheeks were about to burst. There was icing all over my lips, and on the tip of my nose. I was a mess all that sweet sticky cream everywhere. My grandpa looked at me and chuckled, he slowly brang his lips into a smile. That sweet and sour combination, that can’t be replaced. It’s the best part, because it was the sweetest of the cupcake. I took another bite, the filling would run down my chin, slowly in a wavy motion, usually I would clean up, but i decided not to. I got it all over my pure white clothes, my grandma wasn’t going to be happy. I had only a bite left, with my hair with cream cheese filling my clothes yellow now and my hands sticky, I usually can’t take messes but this, this was worth it.


I’ve had a cupcake every Sunday since, every Sunday we would go for red velvet cupcakes. It’s the way we bond. I would always go back expecting to go home, and see my great Grandpa, going through the flight gate when the aircon would blow my messy flight hair back, i would run into his arms. His thin cold skin that looked like bones wrapped his arms around me and held me tight with a smile, and he would say “Theres my cupcake”. Germany is a place where it will rain often, weather will not be hot, winter drags like when you get up on Monday morning. But I love it, The smell of greenery plant’s living, fill my nose. I would walk down any road and just smile, smile for no reason and i love it. It the place where i feel great being, there’s nothing i love more than to spend my summer in germany.

This was my treasure, i wouldn’t trade it for the world. This was our thing, and only our thing. It was our tradition, and hopefully, will be passed on. The dark grey sky’s and cold air is my home, i belong there. It’s just so wonderful knowing a place like this, where the only thing you hear is nature. This is part of me now, its my special thing.












1 comment:

  1. Thank you for choosing to share your work. Means a lot. Now let's get you blogging more often.

    ReplyDelete