What a wonderful life

“Happy New Year!!” they shouted in unison.
“Happy New Year!” she smiled back weakly, still groggy from sleep.
Once fully awake, she grinned widely. It was that time of the year when she was most happy. Well, not most. She was most happy on her birthday. There were more presents then! Nevertheless, these words spoken, no, shouted every year always filled her heart with love.

“So Margaret dear, what is your topmost resolution for this year?” Diana asked, plopping herself on the bed beside her as Tom walked over to Margaret’s side.
“Umm… I’m not sure mom… Couple of things?”
“Well, good! What are they?”
Margaret began excitedly.
“I want to study the stars. Apparently, they are the most brilliant objects in the universe. Then, I want to learn maps, so I never get lost.”
“That’s a great plan,” Tom remarked.
“Thanks, dad. I wonder though, how I will keep track of all these classes. I am already in the music and abacus classes. I could get overwhelmed you know.” replied Margaret.
Tom laughed aloud.
“No, you won’t! Of course, you’ll manage it all and very well at that. But we did think you might like a little something to keep you company? That’s why we bought this for you.”

“What is it?” Margaret immediately reached out her arms like any ten-year-old would.
She grabbed at it and felt the hard corners of the pocketbook. Hurriedly she opened it and felt its pages. There was no mistaking it.
“A diary! Oh, I love it… Thank you so much, dad!”
“You are very welcome dear,” said Tom as he bent down to hug his blind daughter.

He felt content and at peace. Life can be so wonderful sometimes.


Flash fiction in response to Weekend Writing Prompt hosted by the lovely Sammi Cox.

This week’s prompt: Write a story inspired by the making – or breaking – of a New Year’s resolution.

Riya’s quandary

Riya was sitting in the window seat of the bus as always, letting the cold morning wind whip her. This time though, she barely felt the wind’s cold hands cup her face. She did not eagerly follow the scenes that were always the same and always different. She did not admire the colorful collage of the closed shutters against the clear blue winter sky. She did not feel welcome over the freshly laid brown carpet of leaves. She did not marvel at the deft hands of the tea vendors busy in their morning chores. She did not enjoy feel grateful to embrace the orange warm rays of the sun. These days, she could have been in another world and wouldn’t have cared. She herself was in her own world – a cheerless world where she was all alone, misunderstood with nothing to look forward to.

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