Little steps

Her little feet disturbed the puddles of rain that had gathered around the driveway of her house. Maybe nature would forgive her little mistake. She tiptoed through the cold remains of rain which had been left behind and tried to make her way to her friend waiting for her in the garden. A plethora of sensations welcomed her as she walked from the hard concrete to the giving garden. The soil somehow felt, right under her feet. Her fragile feet seemed to like the softness of the grass and the vulnerability of the mud. It was just like her, defenseless and forgiving. She saw how she was making prints on the ground as she hopped and skipped around with her friend. It documented her memories and feelings within them. She loved the rain. It was so refreshing to feel the rain on her face. The house was new to her. The walls seemed to be supposedly looking down on her as if questioning her presence within them. But now she was out. Out in the open where the walls had no judgment to pass. Under the rain, it seemed even the walls were losing their superiority and were inferior to the ever powering rain.

The wall had vulnerabilities too. It had its own way to give in. The gaping holes and the peeling paint were telling a story of its own. Telling how even the tyrants were somehow smaller than what they looked to be. The crumbling reality that they would fall down someday as well. It made me feel complete. I started from where the paint ended. It allowed me to paint my own reality from there. To take my life and paint the walls with them. To take moments like these and color my world myself the way I wanted. The game we had started soon lost its meaning like many things in life do. Lose everything they stand for. Just like the structures I lived in. these are supposed to let me live but who knows that I am scared by them. I am terrified by them. Petrified by the fact that I have to be trapped inside a place and am forced to call it home.

The afternoon slowly turned to evening. I stepped inside my house and changed into dry clothes. It was still raining outside but my nanny asked to come inside so that I do not catch a cold. I hated the rain. It was washing it all away. Washing the record of me and my friend away from the brittle ground. The cruel process took place in front of me and I stood there as it all happened. The world around me was new and I was trying to make sense of it all. And I knew I was failing at it. Failing to even notice that I was within a presence of a great friend. For me a friend had always been someone who you just talk to once in a while, get close to them and slowly realize that you have been at fault all this time.

The rain had started to bore me so I turned around and accidently knocked over the picture frame which was on the shelf. I bent over and picked the frame which now had no glass covering that it prided itself on till now. The glass lay in shattered pieces around the frame. I cleared a picture a bit, careful not to hurt myself. In the picture sat an 8-year-old smiling back at me. Behind her was a baking summer sun and the pond near her created a beautiful scene. The mat near her feet displayed a freshly laid collection of food items. The girl was holding plates that she was going to set on the mat. The most shocking feature of the picture was here braced smile. She had a huge smile from ear to ear. I looked down on the girl and silently whispered to it
“Welcome to a new land. This is your new home now”
With that I held the picture near my chest and felt a warm tear bubbling in my eyes. Slowly the room was filled with low sobs. I do not know for how long I cried. I just remembered that I was tired and I slept on the floor of the living room. The pieces of shattered glass welcomed me as I tried to make sense of the life I was trying to live. No!!!!! Not live but simply justify with words and reminiscences I had until now. Piece together this puzzle. A puzzle that had many missing pieces but still I wanted to do it.