Yippee Dee…Yippee Dee… by Terveen Gill

I’ll hide behind the curtain.

You hide behind the tree.

Yippee Dee…Yippee Dee…

She laughed and skipped. The hem of her cotton dress brushed against her ankles, it lifted ever so slightly when she bounced forward.

Left foot – right foot – left foot – right foot…

He could have sat and watched her the entire day. Not because he was interested in her childish games but for the want of knowing where he had gone wrong.

Why had time played such a cruel game?

However, games were now her forte and she was forever willing and ready to play them.

Come onnnnn!

She was in the doorway, her face peeping from behind the curtain, her milky palm waving with excitement.

He pretended not to see her and began walking towards the apple tree. She squealed with delight. It was the strategy of every game they played.

She called. He ignored.

It made the game stretch longer than usual.

He found it boring. But then, most adults were weary of acting like ten-year-olds.

It was the same spot every time. His feet knew the soft ground better than he knew her whims and fancies. They were everchanging. Fussy, irrelevant, but innocent.

Her intentions were purer than any he had encountered. What could she want that he couldn’t offer? It was simply his time and energy. Both of which he could give within measurable limits. He had given and accepted more than most would have.

He stood with his eyes closed and arms outstretched. His mind counted till fifty, his heart wished for the day to end.

Why did it have to be this way?

He would have answered his own question for the seventy-seventh time if she hadn’t snuck up and slapped her hands on his chest.

I found you!

Yippee Dee…Yippee Dee…

You hide behind the curtain.

I’ll hide behind the tree.

She pushed him playfully and took his place.

He wished that he could turn her back into who she had been.

But the brain stroke had robbed him of his wife.

34 comentarios sobre “Yippee Dee…Yippee Dee… by Terveen Gill

  1. Time after time Terveen, i read your stories, never knowing how it’s going to end and when it does, there’s always a moment of quiet reverie on how strange/ cruel/ unpredictable life is. Life, in a capsule. Another wonderful story, thanks.❤️

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