Not Without My Newspaper..!
What excites me most each morn, isn’t morning coffee being brewed with aroma divine drifting into bedroom, nor quiet yet persistent prodding of my dog into my blankets, reminding me its another glorious day, oh no, what excites me is the anticipation, that feeling of high expectation, slight apprehension as I tiptoe to door, swing it open and hey presto there on doorstep lying like waiting seductress, white faced yet lined with clamoring lines, my bundle of newspapers!
Each bold print, font and letter leap to meet my eye: ‘Take me,” they scream, “No me!” “No me!” “Look at me!” screams one below offering color picture that nearly steps out of broadsheet, tabloid, walks forward offering to be discovered, uncovered, ravished, used.
But like clever lover who stills himself waiting for opportune moment to unleash passion I likewise, pick sensual bundle, holding, treasuring each sheet carefully, but then place precious lot on inside table, and without a second glance, though shivering with anticipation run from home for jog in park.
I hear headlines cry: “Look at me!” “Read me!” Ravish my pages!” But determined to make such pleasure linger I move away, though yearning to return and pleasure those juicy news bits that stretch headlines out to me.
They wait, not touched by other hands, who dare not ravish till I am done, and when my time in park is done I return, with smile of anticipation, greedily lift those pages and they fall limp as I carry them up to terrace garden where again I tease myself with another wait as impatient dog has his time with game called ‘fetch’.
And then the settling down, the coffee cup that’s filled with welcome brew but which waits as mine eye greedily ravishes enchanting page, devouring line by line, turning page, moving from print to picture, picture to print, till at last when first fervor be over I sip my brew and then with easier pace the rest I do.
But today I am aghast; nothing lies outside and then I remember dreadful word: Holiday!
“What’s wrong dad?” asks elder one as I open bedroom door.
“Everything okay?” asks worried wife.
I walk around, poke, peer, play angrily with dog till dogtired he flops and wonders; which Roman galley has such slave driver offloaded.
And then I smile, I remember, yesterday I’d kept back two: Two papers I’d not devoured, but left aside for withdrawal symptoms I’d face today.
I pull them out with glee; it’s yester news! So what? I moisten lips, smile and like ravenous man, devour page and print, and print and page, tit bits I’d left to feed myself with today.
It matters not the news be old, it’s paper in my hand that satisfieth. No TV, no radio, no computer can replace the joy of crisp page melting in reader’s hand..!
