The small cottage was not quite decorated. The simple artifacts created a clear contrast against the light-colored walls. I could see the lake through a window. I remember sitting there during my summer vacations throwing pebbles at the floating leaves. But I can’t vividly remember who all I lived with in the cottage.
Now it’s different here. I don’t recognize the person living here. She has been staying here for a long time now. But I don’t think that she used to live with us. ‘Us’?
She has a guest today. That makes her happy. She has been smiling since the time the guest has come. They both had strolled around the cottage, went on a walk around the lake. They even sat together on the bench across the lake. Usually no one goes there, but today both of them spent a long timing sitting on the bench. Probably they talked about things they don’t want others to hear, me to hear. But that does not matter.
It’s Autumn. The leaves are falling off the trees again. It’s that time of the year when the death of a cycle provides the energy for the birth of a new one. I remember asking my mother about the leaves that piled up under the trees. My mother never liked to clean it off or move them to clear off the ground. She used to say that the dead leaves become home for the bugs and crickets. And when the leaves decay, they become an energy source for the tree they have fallen from. Because, anything that we sacrifice is never in vain, she used to say.
I come back to my senses at the sound of the slamming door. She is back. Her guest is back. But they avoid looking at each other’s eyes. They avoid having conversation. Hesitatingly, she asks for a spoon to stir the coffee she had prepared for both of them. They sit facing each other.
‘Coffee?’
‘No, thank you. I think I should be going. It is getting late and will be dark soon.’
‘You can stay here for the night, and leave as early as you wish the next morning.’
‘My birds will love to have you for the night.’
‘I understand.’
to be continued…
Also find it’s continuation here.
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