The Night After It...

Hello, Women and the Men reading this!

This happens to be my first DoV post, so please do not abandon my post if I disappoint you!

And she mounted her vintage Impala SS Convertible, which predominantly had been her father's. It was one of the posh cars that adorned her garage. People thought it was quite incongruous for a girl to behold an obsession for speedy wagons. Her mother never liked it a bit. She understood why. It was something her Dadda had bequeathed, or rather instilled in her. She always amused Dadda by her inquisitive nature about the vehicle. he had taught her to clean it, mend it, drive it. He had told her that they were not mere cars but a beauty. She had recently replaced it's brake engine, stock up it's oil tank and bathed it like it was her own baby. Each time she convened in this car, she had to live through her worst nightmare.

It was the conventional monsoon night of July. She never could have fathomed the news like it had hit her. The call from the local police station had shook her soul and slapped her awake that life just wasn't about enjoying the world's vista from the comfortable seat of her Dadda's robust bears. The police had testified that his car cascaded over the bridge in haste while he tried saving the little boy from a hideous blow by his car. 

She'd stopped believing in God and his miracles the moment she witnessed Dadda's lifeless cadaver in the morgue. She had gone all by herself, knowing her mother won't be able to endure the very sight of her husband's corpse. She'd been just seventeen, for the love of God! It was strenuous for her to concede to the truth that there'll be no more Dadda to tuck her into the blanket each night, like she'd never grown up. Not that she ever objected to it! 

She decided to walk through the frosty plethora back home, thinking the cold water would calm her screeching soul which was demanding Him to give her back her Dadda. Life was going to be chewy, very chewy. She couldn't figure which way to break the news to Mum. What would she say? That Dadda's no more? That they'll have no more vacations? That she'll have to be the only one to attend all the result days and the Parents' Day of the remaining two years of her school life? That she'll not have the piquant frame of him to behold her when she'll be wanting it the most? That she'll have to live in the most improbable phase to come? Handling her mother had been tough. But yet, she handled herself commendably. Mum knew her daughter would need her the most at this point of time in her life. She too never let Mum down for even the minutest of the seconds in the coming years. She was the new life partner Mum never thought she'd find. They'd gone shopping, watched films, taken cooking classes, had their own parties, drunk on the night of her convocation. She'd drawn her mother out of the obscure pit in a way!

The sudden rain brought her back to the present. It had drizzled in an identical fashion the other night. She unknowingly eyed the dashboard. She'd never opened it, lest her Dadda's essence escape the little area she'd preserved till date. She couldn't define the force which compelled her to open it after all these years. She found the tiny box she had hidden there for her Dadda on his birthday, when she was merely 14 years of age. It had a flower crafted out of origami sheet and a note conveying, "I love you, Dadda. You're the best Dadda ever." She felt the imprint of a writing on the reverse of the note. She turned it, and her breath caught in her throat. "Dadda loves you too, Honeybunch. You too are the best daughter ever." 

She felt the moisture on her cheeks, and then the note. After years, she felt the serenity of their love again. She re-filled the contents of the box, restored it into the dashboard and piloted her way to her office. 

That's all for now fellas. You can check me on The Silence Of My Voice.

Tener cuidado! =)