Letters

As she took the iPad off the charger, first thing in the morning, she fondly remembered her daughter.
The sun must be setting by now, she thought, just across their well-kept lush green lawn in Boston.
 Having her daughter away at places where the sun didn't follow the routine she lived by, had once made the geographical hugeness tangible to her.

Over all these years, she has carefully upgraded herself with the changing technology.
The fingers that once fondly scribbled letters, now swiped quick texts and sprinkled emojis.

The sun was taking it's time today, to show up on her bed, in neat tangents, as it did every morning.

As she idly rolled through the ever increasing number of unread mails in her mailbox, with Pandit Yashraj humming the mellow tunes of Bhairavi on her Bose Home Theater, she suddenly missed the ringing bells of a postman's cycle.

The tangent lights made way to shapeless shadows.

The iPad waited, nonchalantly, as she lost herself in her precious Mahogany box.

Technology was yet to give her a better time-machine than the well-kept yellowing letters.