Breath

Padmini, whose energy and talents leave me breathless, pulled this weeks topic from her pocket and asked us to breath deeply and write about:

Breath

Declaration: I need to thank Paul at Blackwatertown for helping to dredge up this memory a few weeks ago on his blog.

At one stage my eldest brother left for work each morning dressed in business suit and ‘special’ tie. He was a quiet man of routine, slow to speak, and every word uttered followed thoughtful deliberation. When he reached the office car park, he removed the ‘special’ tie and replaced it with a standard striped one. This procedure was reversed on leaving the office at the close of the working day.

One morning he arrived in the car park to be greeted by the anxious waving of a breathless colleague. An urgent situation had arisen and needed my brother’s immediate attention. They both rushed into the building as my brother was briefed on the problem in hand. It was almost lunchtime before they had time to draw breath and relax with a cup of coffee.

They were in the Boardroom, and the bikkies in the Boardroom were always of a superior quality. Big brother was rather partial to the chocolate coated ones. That day he felt he had earned two. He was not alone, the full contingent of Board members were in attendance. Nothing like a threat of disaster to bring them all out of the woodwork, golf courses and wives’ coffee mornings were forgotten for the duration.

The CEO drained his coffee cup and began to speak. He was relieved that the debacle had been avoided and rather pleased that the situation had actually been successfully turned into a gain for the company. He gave credit to big brother for the major part he played in facilitating this outcome.

Realising that all eyes were now on him, my brother put his hand in his pocket for a handkerchief to wipe any stray crumbs from his mouth. He knew he would be expected to say a few words.

The cloth bundle in his pocket felt strange for an instant… Looking down he realised why. His fingers were not feeling the fine linen handkerchief, but his usual workplace tie! Blushing slightly, he rose to his feet.

“I wonder?” he began, “How much my tie helped in the deliberations!” A ripple of laughter floated round the room. Once the details of the difficult negotiations were discussed, he looked down and moved his hand to his tie once more, he exhaled slowly and his face relaxed into a broad smile.

The tie was handmade. A veritable rainbow of uneven random stripes and stitches, with threads sometimes showing at the joins. It was a gift that he had received for Christmas. Four long months of dedicated concentrated work went into the making of this unique gift.

Pure delight shone in the eyes of the lady as she handed over the little parcel all sparkles and sticky glitter. The gift tag was a one off and personalised.

The young lady was his youngest daughter and she was six years old!

Now run along to Anu, Ashok, Conrad, Delirious, gaelikaa, Magpie 11Padmini, Ramana, Rohit, The Silver Fox WhispersWill, Paul & Plain Joe and check out how they are breathing today.

13 thoughts on “Breath

  1. blackwatertown

    Ha – lovely. What a clever daughter.
    Did she earn a commission on the deal?

    (By the way – wonder if I got the timing wrong, don’t think mine is due up for another 40 mins.)

    Reply
  2. nick

    Well, perhaps if I want better results at work I should start wearing a”special” tie. I must look around for a willing six year old who could provide it for me!

    Reply
  3. Rummuser

    I think that I should now take my suits and ties out of mothballs and start wearing ties to solve the many problems that plague me. Some of those ties are very cherished gifts!

    Reply
  4. Grannymar Post author

    blackwatertown – I am sure she earned a special treat. Your timing is spot on, but I know an old man who needs to go to bed early, so I post in time to give him a bedtime story! 😉

    Nancy – Thank you.

    Delirious – And today he still is a loving father and grandfather.

    Reply
  5. Rohit

    This is quite a touching story..reminds me of my 6th grade Geography teacher. He was an old man who rarely spoke without reason. He once let our class in on one of his secret…the handkerchief he carried with him was of his wife. He was partly embarrassed and partly proud but he said he loves his wife too much and keeping this with him makes him feel she is with him wherever he goes..

    Reply
  6. Grannymar Post author

    Rohit – Nice little story you have added. I am also playing catch-up with blog reading and commenting. Life has a way of interfering with the fun. 🙁

    Reply

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