Done… (beres…)

A pickup truck drove moderately on the road in front of the kiosk where Mom sells groceries and offers sewing services. The loud shout of the pickup driver added to the commotion of the students who came scrambling to buy snacks during break time.

“Bbeerrreeesssssss…,” he shrieked while honking the horn repeatedly as he passed the kiosk. The roar of the pickup’s engine, sounding exhausted from the heavy load, was heard between the cheerful laughter of the pickup driver.

Hearing this shout, Mom and I, who were busy serving the students at the kiosk, automatically replied by shouting the same word, “Bbbeerrreeesssss…,” then we looked at each other, chuckled and shook our heads together with a cheerful mood.

Just one word, but it could bring back a million feelings and memories of my childhood in my hometown.

When the afternoon was getting late, the students had returned to their respective homes, leaving the whole kiosk deserted. Only the sound of cleaning tools could be heard along with me and Mom’s movements cleaning up the kiosk while arranging and refilling the kiosk’s contents that were sold today.

While diligently arranging the goods, Mom said cheerfully, “Om Sammy still remembers that word, doesn’t he. I thought he had forgotten it,” accompanied by a blooming smile on her lips. My cheeks, without being asked, immediately turned pink, embarrassed remembering the nostalgia of my childhood with Oma in the village.

“Ma, you know that was my very first memory. When I started to learn to speak, there were two first words that I said, which were “O…ma” and “Beres” with a nasal ‘R’ sound like a baby’s.

It turned out that those words were formed because Oma said them so often. I was a baby who drank canned milk from birth, always screaming “Ooommmaaaaaa… milk…,” when I was hungry and thirsty. And Oma would also answer loudly, “Bbbeerrreeesss…,” from wherever she was, inside or outside the house. That word became Oma’s answer every time I asked for milk, even before I shouted the word ‘milk’.

This habit was heard by the neighbours. And they could immediately guess, if Oma shouted Beres… it meant I was asking for milk. And this could happen 10 times or even more a day, because they said I didn’t like to drink water. So every time I was thirsty, I would ask for milk. And that word was a very calming answer for me, because I knew for sure that Oma would immediately make milk for me.

Well, Om Sammy, the pickup driver, was one of Oma’s neighbours in the village from then until now. I, who was already in school in the city, rarely went back to the village except during holidays. Unexpectedly, Om Sammy, who often passed in front of the house when he brought crops from the village to sell at the market in this city, still remembered that word. And without hesitation, he shouted it cheerfully every time he passed in front of Mom’s kiosk. I was also very entertained and my longing for Oma was healed.

Beres… … … (it’s DONE)

Kreator : Vidya D’CharV