Summer of '69

It has been raining all day now. She listens listlessly to the sound of continuous rain.The incessant drizzle almost fizzles her out. Unwillingly, she tries to go back to work. She has to finish  writing her paper.She has been invited to read at a HSS conference in Cal Sci. She picks up a book she's been meaning to read.Reading might provide an instant escape from the boredom that descends upon her. All in vain! She lights up at the idea of a hot beverage: tea, maybe.Music might help too. Her favourite tracks are already on the playlist. She turns up the volume. Suddenly, her face glows. Bryan Adams is reminiscing about the Summer of '69. The song takes her back,a decade, almost. The spring time of life! The blithe spirit that she was she would enjoy every moment of her existence. Full of the insouciance that defines youth! She smiles and rushes to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. She sits cozy and comfy on her bean bag, sipping the  hot,aromatic, cinnamon flavoured blissful delight! Bryan Adams has made way for Rick Price yearning for his love in "Heav'n Knows". She sips on quietly. Perhaps, she should finally open the book. She places the cup on the coffee table and picks up the book lying there. It's just this morning that she took it out of the bubble wrap.It's a recent novel by her favourite author. The book takes her in gently. Almost like a therapist, it makes her open up.It forces her to respond quite unequivocally. It's a story of a little boy who he journeys to Africa to meet his father.
She has been reading for an hour now. The rain continues to accompany her. She struggles to concentrate,again. She gets up. Stretches herself and paces about the room, nervously. This always helps.For,exercise helps blood circulation and rejuvenates the body and the mind. The songs continue to play in loop. Bryan Adams returns to remind her of a summer long ago when she was daisy fresh, untainted by experience and unburdened by the monotony of  existence. She quickly gets a pen and a paper so that she might note her observations about the novel. She begins to write determinedly.She has been writing on books for years now;literary appreciation and criticism comes naturally to her. However, as she puts the pen to the paper, strange thoughts begin crowd. Memories clamor for space. The playlist has moved on to Benson declaring "Nothing's gonna change my love for you". She writes away furiously and feverishly.It's as if her aspirations, dreams, woes,yearnings write themselves out. She writes without a care.Paying no heed to anxiety of influence or critique of judgment. She writes shamelessly about everyone: friends or foes. Unapologetic about her choices, she never has regretted a decision. She writes like a woman possessed. Soon, the tempo begins to wear off and she comes out disturbed, yet happy;almost as if she shaken out of a  trance.Suddenly, the doorbell rings. She gathers herself and opens the door. A man hands over a parcel to her. She receives the consignment and shuts the door. Curiously,she unpacks the box. There is an aesthetically framed photo of herself and her husband. Immediately, she remembers that it was exactly ten years ago, on that very day that it was clicked: their first date together. A couple of friends had clicked the photo, stealthily. The photo has a note attached to it: "Here's wishing you a very Happy Birthday." She almost bursts into tears.No one in all these years of struggle after her husband's demise had ever thought of her. She had secluded herself away from everyone including her family. Her lonely existence finds a new meaning. She takes a deep breath.After all, she was celebrating life after years. She gets back to her paper tapping her feet to the  Summer of '69.