The Writers' Circle

Tap, tap, tap.

The breeze was blowing lightly through my hair, as I walked along the curb, on my way to the bakery. It wasn't just any breeze, it was the breeze that came from the sea. The breeze was fresh and cool, and was the perfect contrast to the heat of the sun that was beating down strongly onto all that came into its path.

As I passed the playground, I could hear the sound of little children laughing and playing. The creaking of a swing as it swung vigorously up and down, up and down, along with the whispering swoosh as child after child slid down the slide, combined with the banging of the two see-saws as they hit the sandy ground below each child, resulted in a symphony so beautiful that it made me choke, and I almost cried.

"These children have got so much to look forward to, to experience. I wish I could remember what life was like when I was their age."

Ting-a-ling! Ting-a-ling!

"Oh good! I could definitely do with an ice cream on this beautiful day."

"I would like a double chocolate chip on a cone, please," I said with a tinge of excitement in my voice. I have not had an ice cream since the illness came upon me. And it has been even longer since I had one on a cone.

"Here you go, madam."

The chocolate ice cream was thick and creamy, and filled with delicious chocolate chips that released the bitter sweet flavour that enhanced the richness of the ice cream even more. The perforated wafer cone was also a part of the treat, especially the tiny cone at the end. This cone was now filled with melted chocolate ice cream, and when I popped it into my mouth and crunched it, the exquisite liquid gushed out and coated my tongue. It was heaven. I ate it quickly for I have missed the taste that now reminded me of a small but significant part of my childhood.

I continued walking, with Spike leading the way, gently tugging me along on his lead. I was now passing an old residential estate that has been here since I was a youth.

From the windows of one of the apartments, the tinkling of the ivories fluttered onto the curb below. The composition was familiar to me, but I just could not remember its name or its composer.

"Oh, my memory fails me yet again. I used to play this enchanting piece, I remember now. When I was ten, I believe. Or was it eleven?"

I decided to stop and listen. More memories, ones that I had almost forgotten - almost - came rushing back to me. They were memories of the times when Mrs Bates, with her shrill voice and distinctive perfume, taught me Braille with so much kindness and patience. They were memories of my parents' concern when I decided to go out for a walk on my own, along the refreshing beach, with Jackie leading the way. And of course, there were the memories of the joy that came when I had my first book published.

 As I continued my stroll up the street, a voice suddenly invaded my thoughts.

"Good morning, Ms Roberts. I have not seen you for several months now. Have you been busy with another book?"

"Oh, Sandy! Come here!" I said, and gave Sandy, who lives with her mother in the next block, a big hug.

I felt her arms and could tell that she had grown quite a bit, even if it had been a year since I last caught up with her. I moved my hands up to her strong, square shoulders, and then felt her face. She had on a pair of glasses with plastic frames and her high cheek bones led me to her long, thick, silky hair. I could smell a waft of lavender along with the sweet almond fragrance of the shampoo that she must have used.

"I have not been writing for quite a while now, Sandy. The illness has come back," I replied upon completing my inspection of this young lady whom I had known since she moved into our neighbourhood at the age of three. "In fact, today is my first day out since I came back from the hospital."

"Come, let me walk with you and fill you in on the latest gossip here."

As Sandy held onto my arm and twittered on, I smiled. It's great being out on the streets once more, especially after having been couped up in the hospital. It had been horrendous; those tests, medicines and more tests.

The doctors and nurses had been very considerate and kind, but the smells and sounds were what distressed me. I could practically feel the sanitised smell of a typical hospital, mixed with the unmistakable odour of medicine. Coughs and occasional retching sounds could be heard throughout the day and more so at night. The instruments that they probed me with were always cold and the food either too hot or inedibly cold.

Finally, a different odour hit us when a stronger breeze blasted into our faces. That familiar smell of freshly baked bread could be discerned from the salty air.

"Here we are, Ms Roberts. I shall now leave you to your chores," Sandy said as she kissed me lightly on my right cheek. "I'll drop by tomorrow, and I'll bring along some homemade apple pie!"

I was still smiling as I walked into the bakery. She was such a sweet young lady.

"What can I do for you, Ms Roberts? I have not seen you for quite some time," Mr Johnson, the shop owner, baker and cashier of this family-owned business, greeted me. He was a tall man, and you could always here his voice booming down from somewhere high above the cashier's register. "The walnut and chocolate brownies have just come out from the oven, and the blueberry cupcakes are divine."

"Well, then I would like two of those brownies and four cupcakes please," I replied, certain that he would hear the rumbling of my stomach as the gastric juices stirred from the thought of biting into one of those delectable cupcakes with blueberries oozing out from the sides and dripping onto my fingers. "And I think I'll have one of those cupcakes now, Mr Johnson."

With my purchases, I left the bakery with the blueberry cupcake on a serviette still in my hand and uneaten.

I made my way to the bench that was next to the bakery, and which faced the roaring sea.

"Ah..." I sighed as I sat down, feeling more tired than I should have been from such a short stroll. "It's now time for some post-hospital indulgences."

As I bit into the cupcake slowly, all my senses were immediately satisfied - from its freshly baked smell to its perfectly moist yet firm texture and sweet aromatic taste that melted onto my tongue to the feel of the warm blueberries dripping down my fingers, that I intended to lick clean and not waste any.

As I sat there, my head began to feel heavy. My senses seemed to be tuned in to the cupcake and nothing else. My limbs then lost their feel and I could feel my body slumping over.

The wind was blowing lightly through my hair. It wasn't just any breeze, it was the breeze that came from the sea.