MiniQuote Collection - Week 2

The dream I lost

Last night, you visited me in my dreams. Again.
When the dreams first began, I was not surprised.
I had been waiting for them.
And you came,
with your soft satin white dress flowing and
the flower crown sweet-smelling,
looking truly like the angel you have always been.
I could spot the wild honeysuckles in the crown.
They were your favorite, weren't they? Did you know mine?
It was your rosy cheeks.
They gave you a warm healthy glow,
letting people know you were always loved and cared so dearly.

Even the dreams have not the power
to dim that glow, when you come before me.
Standing there, you look at me and smile.
Once innocent, now the smile knows something.
Slowly, you look down. I follow your eyes.
Where there was ground beneath your lovely feet,
now only dark waters remain, pulling you in.
Claiming you again, to the depths.
"No, please don't. The waters are not friendly.
Walk away from them. Take my hand," I scream.
I can't hear my own voice.
I try lending my hand. But, I can hardly reach you.
You are in a far-off land now. Away from my clutches.
Seconds pass. I scream into the vacuum, unheard.
I blink.

And wake up, my eyes tearing up and hands sweating coldly.
If I can't save you, I never will let myself
see the last of you.
I will keep waking up, and wait for you
to visit me the next night.

You come stand there, every night,
a silent picture of my life's greatest blessing.
Before my eyes, you shy out everyone.
None can be anywhere as amazing as you.
The angelic paleness, the shimmering locks,
full lips parted in curiosity, velvety black eyes,
tender palms. They have all survived the dreamland.
But, it's your heartbeat I don't hear anymore.
The music has stopped. The touch is lost.
A dull heartache is instead in place,
casting a shadow on my reality.

You were always my dream. I waited years.
To have you in my life and take care of you.
But, I returned you to dreams again.
Now, you will never come back.

You, babygirl, are the dream I lost forever.

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The dreams have never changed after that day. I can still perfectly picture the swimming arena and the cherubic 4-year olds in the pool, their arms flailing about in tubes of myriad colors. You loved the pool the first time you set your feet into it. With the ever-so-brimming confidence, you waddled in. People around were taking notice, surprised at the daring 3-year unafraid to take on the deep pool. I was a proud mother there. And I turned to listen to the praises that every other parent had for you. I knew you liked me to recite them to you later on. So, I was carefully making note of them. The devilish waters devoured you right then, behind my head. 

The mistake was mine for I let my attention desert you for a moment. I let you go, and I will never forgive myself for that. The regret of losing you is killing me from the inside. I did not deserve to be your mother, my dearest darling. You were my dream, but I was your nightmare.

MiniQuote Collection - Week 1

Finally, another new project up the sleeves. Planning to come up with a collection of #miniquotes every week. Here's the very first set. Hope you enjoy :)

Foodie Finds #01: French Toast with a dash of maple syrup

No, French toast is not really French, nor are French fries. While the earliest references of the toast can be traced all the way back to ancient Roman times, the fries are said to have originated in a remote Belgian village. So, how exactly did the French stake out a claim on both these tasty-crispy-golden dishes? Well, the Americans are responsible for that. When Joseph French, an American chef recreated the yummy toast in 1724, he decided to name the dish after himself. But, instead of rightly calling it 'French's Toast', he simply named it French toast (Apparently, the grammar nazis were not born yet). And, the potatoes? It goes that the fries were introduced to American soldiers who were camping out in that Belgian village during World War I. Since French was the dominant language in Belgium, the soldiers sneaked in the term 'French' with the fries. There you go!

Now, fun facts aside, French toast on a lazy Sunday morning never fails to lift our spirits up. Throw in a dash of maple syrup, a plate of chicken sausages, and freshly squeezed orange juice, you are blessed. French toast still remains one of the "sweetest" childhood memories for me. Smitten with the dish, I always make it a point even now to order a plate of toast whenever I find a place that offers it.

Recently, I came across Parfait 3 in Velachery and their French Toast is one of the best I have tasted to date. Situated on Taramani road, the tiny place is too easy to miss. Had it not been for a friend who was a regular there and was confident that I would like their continental spread, I would never have set foot in Parfait 3. But, I am glad I did :) Their French toast is totally my idea of perfection, sweetened to just the right stage for my taste buds. Parfait 3 is definitely a decent place to stop by for a peaceful evening snack and they do have quite a heavy menu with an assortment of pastries. 

Have you tried any dishes at Parfait 3 that caught your attention? Or, do you know of a place that's got some wonderful French Toast? Do share :)