By Ashutosh Gursale12 Comments

benchThe Bench

It was always white.
No matter the weather, it’s wood never turned dull.
The rain drops slid away like water over oil.
The hot sun could only add to it’s brightness.
The snow? It converted the bench into Snow White’s favorite seat.

The resistant mighty white wasn’t the reason why she loved it, I reckon.
It must’ve been it’s perfect location in the garden which made every bird on Earth make it’s way around the bench.
There, she sat with a hand in the food bag and other holding whatever book I recently gave her to read.

Maybe, I’m still getting it wrong.
Because another part of my mind says it was the view.
The colorful flowers and their sweet fragrance made it’s way to my bed, every morning when she opened our window.

I may have guessed it right by now or it could be something I can’t even guess, but she loved this place. I’m sure.
I’m sure because the bench has lost it’s glow, the flowers have turned to kiss the ground and the birds refuse to eat from the plastic dishes she would sometimes feed them from.
Even I, don’t have the smile which stuck to my face all day.
Even I miss her. But I know she’s gone to a place happier!
A place where everyone and everything would love my mother as much as we did.

©The Honest Fabler – Ashutosh Gursale

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