There’s Beauty In A Kick
I secretly got a soft kick at my feet under the table to
warn me not to take the offer out of his plate, as he, our son had the flu.
Another time she whispered during a break of our choir
training, to me: “Don’t take it”. The (bakwan jagung) corn cake, she, a choir
member, offered me was so tough and not nice at all. Can you picture our choir,
old agers silently nibbling on it. No one dared complain, though it was
torture, suffering.
I said I would take it home as not to offend her. I didn’t
ate it but gave it to my dog, - instead of my old cook, who certainly would curse
it - to chew. And on top of it, she assured, she would take the rest that’s
left, to gladden her even older choir members the next day. Ha. Ha. What madness.
There is beauty in a kick, in a whisper, ...
Hers is a subtle way to warn me without compromising the
good intentions of the benefactress, of which am I grateful and will
always remember. So said Opa Johan.
June 2013
This is my book. You can read it.
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