Her love for Curves

From the corner of my eye, I saw her taking my pen like a kid who steals colors to paint the wall. She took the newspaper and ran the pen over those black words. Her hands trembled as she tried to copy the curve of those alphabets. Every few seconds she glanced around to check if she is being watched. It was getting difficult for her to write properly without any base beneath the newspaper. She hid the pen and smiled at me sheepishly when I looked at her.

I never saw that smile on her face, not even when she eyed her favorite dish or when she wore her favorite dress. I never knew those curvy alphabets could make her eyes sparkle.

"I am going for a walk," I said to comfort her and left the room. She took out the pen and spread the newspaper on the table carefully. Her eyes glistened as her pen moved from one word to another. At the age of 60, she looked like a 4-year-old kid, who did not even know how to hold the pencil but with every faulty attempt, she felt accomplished and satisfied and more she smiled more I cried. I, for her helplessness and she, for her accomplishments.