The shrill sound of the alarm clock, every morning at 5.30. Oh how she hated it!
5 minutes more Baba , she pleaded every day.
And that 5 would turn to 10, post which the blanket would be pulled off and she would find herself in the bathroom.
“No missing a day of badminton” is what he always said, “not just talent, discipline will take you a long way in being successful and happy my baby”
How I hate this sound and wish every day was Sunday, she wailed.
She had her wish finally. every day was Sunday.
She had no school, college, sports, a job, no responsibilities for which she had to set up an alarm today.
The late mornings she had always yearned for when she was a kid, but they felt empty now.
Life had been rough but she did not want to dwell about what it could have been.
As she was cleaning the attic today, she came across the alarm clock and it rekindled so many memories.
On a whim she cleaned it, inserted a fresh set of batteries and voila- it still rung with the same shrill sound!
As she set it for 5 the next morning, a wide grin spread across her face and her smile this time reached her heart.
Linking up with Vinitha who hosts Monday Fiction
www.akswrites.com 
With time our perspective changes too, right? Beautifully written, Akshata. 🙂
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Thx so much Vini
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Memories are irreplaceable treasures. Lovely one, Aks.
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