The American Couple

She was a budding writer with her horn-rimmed spectacles as the proof. Write-ups governed her life like nothing else. She was busy writing stories for her blog when she saw a comment on one of the posts.

Bleep! The comment was by an American man, who was appreciating her work "as write as rain!"

What could an Indian writer want more than an American native praising  her English! She was never too confident of herself and doubted the truthfulness of the man too. She had to seek the real flaws of her blog that the man, out of courtesy, had not mentioned publicly.

"Hi, Paul." And she initiated a chat with the man.

"I would like to thank you for showing your appeasement with my blog. Yet, I would like you to be a bit more critical about it."

That was the first text in the history of their chat box. Little did she know of the gift God had placed her way.

Paul Atkinson, the American native, had replied saying that he recommended no changes for the blog. He had made her day.

Both never know when they had become such an indispensable part of each other's life. She called him 'Grandpa', and found no other term that could honour him more. Their bond had grown so much so that her contact had spread to his wife even. Lynda Atkinson, the woman she had never met but respected like a Grandmother.

Very little did it feel then that they were not blood relations separated by fate.

She knew a lot about the couple, and always had thought 'Sometimes two good people clash, that doesn't make any of them bad.'

She could have never doubted the righteousness of any of them. She could have never doubted their love for one another. However, she could even not neglect the misunderstandings between them.

If only she could take them away somehow.

If only she could make right everything crooked.

God didn't give her the might to do that, however, as the mature adults were keeping it together. Even after every sorrow they had faced, no strain covered their foreheads. Their hearts had not hardened, and their wrinkled hands were herculean with the power for helpfulness.

The girl had achieved the best example of her life from them, she couldn't deny!

She reflected on every moment she had spent with them, and there she sat, doing the best thing she did, recording and preserving it all in one of her write-ups.