Fragile things

I had a pretty happy perfect kind of childhood. There was laughter, fun, warmth and a great feeling of security growing up. 

I remember my mom was super hygiene conscious and wouldn't let us eat roadside food at all. In those days (I must be around 5-6 years old) we used to live in vizag and going to the beach was a regular Sunday activity. On beach side along the shore there were carta that used to sell lovely pomfret fry that used to smell really good. My mom obviously was not very keen about we eating that- 'Outside food that too fish fry!'

However I remember one evening dad took me and my brother for a walk along the shore. My mom was probably near our shoes and other stuff.

 There we stopped at a stall and my dad bought us spicy pomfret fry. And I and my brother knew it was rare and we might never get to eat it again so we both devoured it faster than the guy could supply the next fish. And we went back quietly as if we never ate anything. 

Today years later, on a cold day, while watching the sea, the memories of that evening came flooding by - bringing a faint smile and a familiar warmth.