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”

Acknowledgment: A version of this story appeared under the title 'Ash' in the book 'An Itinerant Observer'

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