K for Key

Martha never goes out. So it was a surprise to Miranda when Martha came to her one day as requested that she house sits for her while she visits some of her relative.

Martha had moved next to her some years back and right from day one they had bonded well. Miranda, being an orphan, always felt that Martha is like a mother she never had. They used to spend a lot of time together talking, cooking or even gardening. Martha’s garden was a joined effort of both of them and so; Miranda was more than happy to take care of her garden for her.

The day Martha was leaving, she came to Miranda and handed over the KEY to her house. There were tears in her eyes as she left on her journey. Later in the evening, she went over to Martha’s to water her plants. As she was watering, she started thinking of Martha and the key she had given her. “Maybe she had kept some plants inside which she wanted me to water and that might be why she gave me the key”, and that could be the only explanation for Martha to do what she did. And so she decided to go to her home and check it out.

But what she saw was nowhere near what she had expected. Inside Martha’s home, there were so many canvases of Miranda’s pictures – of her smiling, of her cooking, of her with her family, of her gardening, even of her working engrossed in her laptop. Once she got over the shock of seeing her pictures, she realized that although all of them were paintings, it could very well have passed over as photographs. They were very lifelike. She had not known Martha to be such a great artist, but she still could not understand why there were only her pictures in her home. There had to be some reason for it but all she could do was waiting until Martha was back for her to get some answers.

The patience was torturous, but finally the day arrived when Martha was supposed to be back. It did not take long for Miranda to figure out that Martha was ignoring her. Initially she got very angry, but she decided to give it a shot and went over to her. It took a lot of knocking on the door and shouting for Martha to get the door open.

But as soon as the door was opened, she could see that Martha has aged a lot over the past few days. She looked very frail and tired and Miranda felt bad for her friend. Martha had kept a pot of tea ready for her and they sat down to talk.

Martha told her that she was Miranda’s mom’s best friend and that she had been searching for Miranda for a long time. Her mother had died at child birth and Martha was not in a condition to take care of the baby at that time and so, she could not do justice to her best friend’s daughter. But she always kept a track of her. A few years back she thought to make amends and came to stay near to Miranda, but she could never gather enough courage to tell her the truth. Instead she became her best friend.

Both of them started crying together. Martha finally got the daughter she always wanted and Miranda found the perfect substitute for her mother. And all just because of a KEY.

Advertisements

About devinair

A thinker, dreamer, ponderer, I love to think of things which normally people wouldn't. These thoughts are put into words for the world to read through my blogs. Do feel free to comment on them If you like to read, do feel free to go through my book reviews to help you select the next best book to read. Follow the link http://theverdictsout.wordpress.com
This entry was posted in alphabet, creative, Creativity, Decisions, Fiction, Joy, Life, love, Passion, relationship, Short Story, Wish, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Share ur thoughts

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s