Some moments ,like a good meal, leave a flavour behind in our memory.
It was during one of those nights that his mother talked to him about destiny. She also explained how everyone needed to pursue their own particular mission in life. That was a quiet night, so typical of the countryside evenings. The light rain outside, was gently bathing the orchard with its damp message of life, and the sweet fragrance of wet earth, just barely whiffed inside to faintly reach the kitchen, as it floated float lightly in from the partially open front door.
His beloved father had just let himself in, his hair and clothes still damp from the light drizzle outside. Once he had dried out with a towel, he comfortably settled in his favourite chair, as he contemplated his young wife, his regard filled and heavy with love. She was slowly, stirring the food in a pot with a worn-out, wooden spoon. Her gaze appeared lost in thought, as she formulated a conversation with her son, while carefully tending to the night’s supper
A low sigh of satisfaction was heard in the room. It came from his father, who had just finished lighting-up a smoke. With his eyes closed, he waited attentively to listen into the conversation, from the spot where he was so placidly sitting.
