[CW/Feedback] My Simple Joys in Life

[Noir]

A/N: I'm putting this here as I have been writing creatively much less lately and lack cogitation to. It comes and goes, and sometimes people write good stuff, and sometimes bad products flesh out from your head. I don't control what I write, and it's rare that I can write given events and recent business.

This is the average stuff I can write in around 30 minutes or less after watching some SOL and having (for once) some soothing and positive feelings in my hectic exam-distracted and edgy ass life that comes once in a blue moon. Not the best I can dish out as this is more of a narrative of experience than descriptive writing, but feedback is appreciated.

My Simple Joys in Life

It was the same leisurely Saturday morning. The bright rays of the dawn’s golden sun penetrated the glass window framing the picturesque morning view outside my bed, landing on my eyes as the warmth and light of the slits of sunshine awakened me. Auspicious mornings such as this signified the beginning of another promising day, and as I fluttered my eyes open, a pair of luminescent azure eyes first met mine. The beautiful pair of sapphires were prettier than any afternoon sky, and they belonged to my sister, Lucia, who welcomed my every morning with those mesmerizing eyes and a loving smile that shone with a radiance even the splendent sky outside could not hope to parallel. Replying with a smile of my own, I entwined my hand in hers as we adjourned to the dining room for a palatable, heart-warming breakfast.

Ours was but a simple existence, but my days with my younger sister and widowed father in the countryside were contenting and euphoric. Off the many simple joys that the countryside life had offered me, breakfast with Lucia had to be the icing on the cake for a refreshing, salubrious dawn. Father would already be out working in the barn at this hour a stone’s throw away from our cottage, and while we missed his company in such mornings, his absence did not make the share of the day’s first meal any less enjoyable. Ever the well-versed cook of the house ever since our mother’s passing, the table would always be filled with scrumptious treats from bread to honey cakes, and bowls of nuts and apples picked from the old apple tree outside our yard. Such a morning was one that I would envision and anticipate the night before, and while it was not idiosyncratic, it was the start of every joyous day for us both.

Work on the farm with Father ensued after breakfast and doing the dishes with Lucia. Tough as the avid and hustling farm life was, Father always knew how to make work fun for me, and enjoyed his work as much as he reaped its rewards, easily establishing himself as one of the best farmers in our vicinity. He was as much a fun-lover as he was a hard worker, and it was him who made the barn and the collection of animals we reared my little haven since childhood. I had fun collecting the eggs in the chicken coop as the chickens clucked contentedly as we groomed and inspected them. I indulged in watching the ravenous farm animals, from the pigs to the oxen, as we fed them our provender. Funny and joyful moments would occur as we milked the cows, as the buckets of milk we extracted from our cows would accidentally spill and my father and I would laugh at such silliness. And there was our loyal young canine Rover, our best friend and our irreplaceable sheepdog, who would run with me in the fields as we waited for the grazing sheep to finish their pasturage. Man’s best friend, as they would say; he stayed with us wherever he went, becoming a loyal companion of the family as we raised him well.

Father would dismiss me in the late afternoons, sometimes evenings, as he would take our farm products, such as our freshly harvested vegetables and livestock, to be sold in the evening market after I had finished work in the farm. I would usually insist to aid my father in the market, as I loved interacting with the folks of the country as our business passed with friendly chatter of the countryside’s life and news, and to also chance myself to a have a taste of Old Aunt Marie’s mouth-watering gingerbread, a portion of which I would always bring home for Lucia. However, Father would insist otherwise, insisting that I join Lucia at home; my sister had been lonely since our mother’s departure, and while Father had always filled the void our mother’s loss had led us with, Lucia always stayed home, completing the housework alone, while I had my father’s and my farm’s company with me. I would acquiesce to his wishes in understanding, knowing that I was Lucia’s caring older brother and needed to live up to that title. As always, sweet little Lucia always greeted my return warmly – more often than not with tea set on the table, a fine substitute for the times where I lacked the luxury of a piece of Aunt Marie’s bread.

The broad section of green outside the cottage was our garden, with the swing and the old apple tree, where Lucia, Rover and I would play and pick apples that Lucia would occasionally use for her apple pies. Lucia would sit on the swing as I played ball with Rover, and sometimes she would join in, filling our green pastures with laughter and jubilee. As the orange of the sky would fade and as the sun descended below the hills, I would join Lucia in making dinner, again as delicious as the breakfast she prepared. Father would also rather at this time as we enjoyed dinner, happy at the time of day where the entire family was together. To finish the days gratifyingly, Lucia would pester Father and I with the big old storybook in her hands, asking for our vivid retellings of her favourite bedtime stories. The night in our room dimly lit by a candlelight, Lucia tucked herself cosily in bed as we portrayed and imitated the diverse array of characters within the book, from foolish merchants to chivalrous knights to the unrealistically docile damsels in distress. They all promised her – and us – a good night’s sleep with wonderful dreams.

Simple joys in life such as these are hard to come by – and I wouldn’t have asked for more.

Edited November 1, 2016 by Noir