Brushed cobwebs

Posted by Claudia Moser on 8:25 PM in ,

“Laughter is the brush that sweeps away the cobwebs of your heart.”
 Mort Walker

Anna woke up, looked around and tried to understand if today was any special. And it was not. Even if she just turned 39 (to be honest her mother would tell her she is already 39 and 6 hours, since it was 8am already), she felt as nothing special happened.

The bedroom looked the same, the sun was just coming into the room, basking the walls and her pots of flowers in the opposite corner. The bed felt empty, Thomas was on a business trip which he could not cancel. Her son was also away, staying the night at his girlfriend.

Anna pondered if she should stand up, but being the 'planning monster' she was, she had too, her three best friends were coming for breakfast and she had to buy fresh bread so they could enjoy a nice chat over some fried eggs, hot coffee and fruits.

While dressing she thought of selecting something more festive, but she had no desire in doing so, her jeans, a pullover and a jacket were enough for this golden October morning. Make up she wonder? Why bother?

Walking fast under the morning sun, she was thinking of what she had achieved so far, her studies, her marriage, her son, her job, her marriage. That was coming back to her, she has such a quiet quaint marriage with Thomas. Sometimes she wanted more fire, but the end neither of them were adventurous.

And then a man hit her while coming out of the baker store. She looked up and the man's face brightened. It was Andreas, her university boyfriend, her first love, the sporty guy with golden locks and deep green eyes.
And now in front of her was an older man, no sign of the handball player she used to love. He looked questioning, and she knew he has problems identifying her, until a flash passed his face and he shouted Anna!   Was she happy to see him? She wondered.

And then Andreas started talking like there was no tomorrow. How he missed her, how he had married four times, never finding peace, always thinking of her and how great she looked (well she doubted that part since she knew how she looked, natural, no make up, like a normal 39 year old woman). And somehow his talking was annoying, she did not even get a chance to say something, he actually did not care. And then a horn, and Andreas froze. A bulky woman came out of a sporty car, shouting at him, asking him why he looks for other woman, and questioned him if he got the proper croissants. Andreas was blank, not moving, and the woman turned to be his fifth wife, totally having him under her control. And they left, and there was silence. She took a deep breath, heard the sound of a SMS coming in, Thomas telling her he is at the train station, coming home, missing her.

She smiled, her doubts brushed away. She missed him so much, she loved him. Seeing Andreas, the guy she thought she loved the most made her realise what she has, a husband.

She laughed and bought some bread.



Lovely little story Claudia. I really enjoyed it, and beautifully written. I think a lot of people will relate to it. We should all appreciate what we've got, and realize just how precious it is!

Lieben Gruß und Carpe Diem

Love this!

Dearest Claudia,
Oh my!!! Really lovely story and gave me a smile(*^_^*)
I remember once that the cute boy turned into normal middle-aged working man at the alumni reunion p;)
Sending you lots of love and hugs from Japan, xoxo Miyako*

A touching story and one which many will identify with. I enjoy your short stories - looking forward to the next.

Wow,such a delightful story ..so true and realistic.Yes, Anna is sooo ME!:)

Great story.


ahhh the bread of life...

Life is like that, isn't it? We don't appreciate what we have until we lose it or until we realize what we could have been stuck with. I spent most of my working life surrounded by men, and every time I heard them going on and on about sports, I appreciated Hubby--who talks about Einstein, religion, the expanding universe, the possibility of photon decay, quantum mechanics, geology, and, occasionally, even Illini football. : - ) (No, he's not a scientist. He just has many, many interests and wild theories and will sit down and read a book on calculus like I read fiction.)

@Diane - I agree, we should appreciate what we have!
@Cloudy - genau
@Jo - happy :)
@Miyako - time takes its toll
@Miss B - thank you, I somehow like writing them
@Laila - I am happy you enjoyed it, nice that I managed the realistic touch
@Joyce - thank you
@Brenda - indeed
@Angela - you are one lucky woman!

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Thank you for your comments, I appreciate them all!


"A story is not like a road to follow … it's more like a house. You go inside and stay there for a while, wandering back and forth and settling where you like and discovering how the room and corridors relate to each other, how the world outside is altered by being viewed from these windows. And you, the visitor, the reader, are altered as well by being in this enclosed space, whether it is ample and easy or full of crooked turns, or sparsely or opulently furnished. You can go back again and again, and the house, the story, always contains more than you saw the last time. It also has a sturdy sense of itself of being built out of its own necessity, not just to shelter or beguile you."
by Alice Munro

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