Innocence | Flash Post 344

Button, on my way home today, I noticed something that took me back to my childhood years when the family was living in Kolkata.

What did you see?

The ecstasy that was written large on the face of a young boy who had just climbed into a cab. His tiny face was alight with joy and excitement as he made his entry inside the vehicle grabbing the window seat. He had a toothless grin that stretched from ear to ear.

Why was it familiar?

Because, as a young girl, I, too, would do the same thing when my father took us out for our Christmas lunch once a year in a cab.

How did you feel then?

I usually grabbed the window seat and would roll the glass pane of the window down to feel the cool breeze caress my face as the cab winded its way through serpentine lanes towards the restaurant. My younger sibling took the other window seat pushing my mother to sit between us while my father sat in the front seat beside the driver.

You said your family rode a cab once every year. Why?

Because that was all we could afford. One cab ride once a year and, as kids, we would look forward to that day. We also looked forward to eating in a restaurant dressed up in our best attires. It felt special and wonderful.

How many times do you eat outside now?

Once every week. Sometimes once every two weeks.