We are in the month of August.
Fondly remembering someone's birthday, to be honest.
My maternal grandfather, Zephrine,
who was always on my team.
Irrespective of what I did, he loved me the most.
Of his five grandchildren, that - only I can boast.
When I was born, he was probably in his mid seventies.
He lived to a ripe old age, just few months short for ninety.
Let me tell you about his breakfast.
Something a cardiologist would term 'reckless'.
But this is what he ate almost everyday.
Spread out on his plate, nothing fancy or gourmet.
Slices of fresh toast,
with dollops of the uppermost,
layer of thick fresh cream,
derived from boiling non-UHT milk and skimming.
There'd be two fried eggs,
a plate big enough to accommodate a turkey leg.
A cup of hot Bournvita.
Sounds a bit light, huh?
Also some bakery and jam,
that he would make every two weeks on a pan.
He made the most amazing jams.
Different fruits and flavours every time.
No use of xanthan gum or gelatin.
Just real fruit, no preservatives or carrageenan.
Nothing artificial, no flavouring agents.
The king of the house ate in patience.
Gone are those days;
gone are those ways.
To some screen or keypad, everyone's engaged.
To something, the people of this day and age are enslaved.
Why is it realization comes much later in life?
After experiencing consequences and hurts in stride.
Most of the people I want to hug and kiss,
are either six feet under or in far away bliss.
I guess that's just the cycle of life.
By the time you discern, it's time to say goodbye!