October's Pocket Pennies

Oblivion - Alice Phoebe Lo

Well, October was an awful series of events, and I do not wish to revisit most of them. To fool myself into remembering a better autumn, I have counted October's pocket pennies.

1. I have worn out my juttis just as I had hoped to. One is made of cloth and lined in gold, like lace. The other is leathery and tough, and though it hurt my feet for the first 30 wears, the thirty-first was ever so lovely.  The soles have darkened; my love for them has deepened. Juttis can be a steady source of happiness - till they break, of course, but that is then, the loving is now.
   
   
2. Yes, my phone did break, and the replacement is awful. However, I now appreciate conversations better and have become far more interested in the stains on my wall. Toothbrush, soapy water, and Alice Phoebe Lou in the background (only because her songs have become happier, and I like to imagine that I have too).
   
   
3. My father's visits and my sister's stay kept me busy, and even more so when Salu made the trip to North Delhi. Oh, but the fatigue! How lovely it was to be exhausted from not having enough time to spend with the people you love! How terrific Delhi dawns looked before the Diwali air took over, and the streets were lit up with Christmas lights. And there I was, so small and yet so busy.
   
   
4. Banter with friends, banter among friends you introduced, banter between friends and your siblings, knowing you know good people, and believing that that might mean you are a good person yourself. When Salu made tea for us and ran her fingers through my faded red hair, and when Yepe reminisced about her childhood adventures over lunch with my father, well, we all became children again. Seeing goodness around me, I suspected I might not be so bad myself.
   
   
5. Pink Floyd at The Piano Man. My father's first experience at a jazz club was the first time he got to enjoy a full set of Pink Floyd songs live. Sitting at the edge of the third balcony, my father was every age he first heard these songs, and he cheered next to me, voice breaking from old age. When was the last time my father shouted, cheered, and applauded for a band? Now I know, and it was with me.
   
   
6. Mordechai and I went to Dave's for dinner and shared a rice beer. We wore denim jackets - mine from him. We did not talk about extraordinary things but shared a cigarette. He says I have changed, and I am relieved to know that someone has noticed. I tell him he has become softer, but he is not as relieved. I suppose our versions of soft differ!
   
   
7. More people have gotten to know me! I occupy space beyond the places I am aware of. How infinitely lovely it is to be taken to places you might never know - excluding the times people take a photo of a dragonfly and tell you it reminded them of you. 
   
   
8. I have caught glimpses of my younger sister in her 20s, living in Delhi, and trying to make sense of life. How hard it must be for mothers to watch their babies fall and wait for them to get themselves back up! Angie is only twenty, and I am ill from holding back the love that tries to break at the seams; to hand-hold the tiny fingers that gripped my finger once; to watch her make the same mistakes; to let her go.
   
   
9. Nothing heals you as much as cooking with a friend. When Salu made coffee next to me as I tossed salad, I recalled the time Yepe stood beside me last summer, cutting watermelons. Both times, I felt that life was fulfilling indeed without romance - especially without a guy who does not know to clean up the counters as the other cooks.
   
   "Would you like a cup of coffee as well?"
   "Uhm, I don't know, but my father likes his sweet."
   "I'll make one for your father, which you can try, and if you like it, I can make some more."
   
   So then, we all ended up drinking coffee, and the salad was a delight.
   Salu cooks great meaty meals, and I am slightly better at making the vegetarian sides. Yepe remembers to bring me popcorn every other evening. She'd make a terrible bartender, but she is just as delightful to have in the kitchen. 
   
   
10. As I listened to Emmett and Misty May on our conference call, I imagined Emmett picking up his phone and knowingly searching for my name and calling me. Well, it is quite silly, yes, but it warmed me in that cold Uber ride. I suppose I had never truly understood that someone out there, who has known me for almost 10 years, loves me and calls me up when he has something to vent about - just because. It was silly that it made me tear up, and even sillier that it had taken me so long to understand. 

October's remnants stay on my henna-stained hands, and the pocket pennies are what I go back to when autumn runs deeper into that awful winter.