Wake Up - It’s Your Anniversary!
Noori woke
me up first thing in the morning and wished me a happy anniversary. “What’s
that Noori?” was all I could mumble. After realization sunk in I knew I was in
for the doghouse—again. It was poetic justice that just a few weeks ago I had
written how
I was given to forgetting Love Demonstration Situations (LDSs):
birthdays, anniversaries, and the like. That post in itself could have been a
potent reminder, but here I was forgetting my own anniversary AGAIN! The horror
of doing so last year crossed my mind: let alone remember, I had happily driven
away with Noori’s Aman Chachoo to San Marcos, almost 200 miles away, on
a jaunt, presumably to buy furniture for his townhouse. I had returned close to
midnight; kids were fast asleep, and Ayesha was past reason—rightly so.
Redemption was not in reasoning with her that I was merely helping a good
friend move around bulky furniture. Nor was it in the Coach handbag that I got
for her as peace initiative.
As all the
above rattled around in my foggy brain, my first impulse was to act dumb. That
is not hard for me; made easier since I had returned from late night shift work
(not a jaunt this time, mind you).
My plan
was thwarted because in what seemed like a split second Ms. Noori, the
excitable and already excited Kindergartner had walked over to Mama’s side and
was wishing her the same.
I counted
the milliseconds for all hell to break loose.
So when
that did not happen in the o.oo3 seconds of bated breath, I feared the
best and the worst.
I was
hopeful that Noori’s early morning endearments (an exception, not the rule) had
gotten the better of Ayesha, and hence she was distracted.
The actual
reason was more amazing: Ayesha, too, had forgotten that it was our anniversary.
Oh, the
joy of being in the same boat as her for once!
The rest
of the day went smoothly enough. No monumental discussions…no arguments….no
doghouse! For the 2nd time in 13 years, there were no questions asked about my lack of
sensitivity for an anniversary.
The
1st
time that had happened was when we celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary; my
math being right, it was 3 years ago. That was probably my only attempt at
being a Houston desi socialite.
Noori in
her fabulously kindergartenish way had paved the way for Baba and Mama to be on the same page.
And she bestowed upon us her signature artwork of the day.
But that
was not all: Sumbuca café in Downtown Houston was the venue for our ‘real’
celebration. The ambience was lovely, enhanced by live jazz. Ayesha thoroughly
enjoyed the steak, and I the shrimp and crab scampi. My favorite part, as
always, was dessert: the tiramisu was just out of this world!
What more
could I ask for from a restaurant where the desserts were listed under the
title “Happy
Endings”…
[from An Itinerant Observer]
Acknowledgment: A version of this story appeared under the title 'Ash' in the book 'An Itinerant Observer'.
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