A Living Fairytale 

- Tracer

As soon as the door opened, I greeted her at the top of my voice while I scanned through the place, trying to search for the figure I once felt so familiar with. And then, I was invited into the house.

As I entered, I realised that the house looked the same. The scene right in front of me matched the image of my childhood memory which was projected out in my mind. The humble-looking place was embellished with the same old furniture as it did in the past. The house was not big, neither was it too small too. The living room had a few sofas, a coffee table and a display table on which a television was placed at the middle. Yes, the furniture was adequate for the two people who were the only ones living in the house.

I spotted the pinkish-grey sofas. They were slightly different now. The holes which were peeking through the cotton coverings caught my eyes, a sign of how old they were. I remembered the times when I came here during my younger days. Then, the sofas were bright pink, a colour I was once fond of. I was always fascinated about them. An endless shower of warmth seemed to be always emitting from the bright pink cotton threads whenever I looked at them. The wooden frame too, emitted a mesmerizing aroma. The smell felt so fresh, so unreal. It was so captivating that I even imagine myself in the Amazon. Cliché as it might sound, but true enough, you really have to be there to actually feel the unbelievable sweetness the house was giving me generously. I was happy to be there. All the troubles I had in my head seemed to have vanished into thin air at that very instance. Some have said that my affection towards the house was beyond ordinary. With that, I laughed it all off. The level of attachment which had been derived throughout the years was simply beyond words. Here, I present to you my last memory of this very house.

I made a pact with myself. I promised to return. I did. And here it was. I stood facing the living room, with an indescribable feeling washed all over me. Shabby as it might seemed to outsiders, but the beauty of it is forever ever-lasting to me, as they always say, “Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder.” Distinctly and evidently, the bright colours of the furniture had long faded away and gave way to the years of imperfection. Already in her sleeping attire, a matching pink blouse and longs pants of a lighter pink, she stood there, beside the decades-old sofas, welcoming me with opened arms. The contrast was not very large, for She too was a living example of how merciless the years could get. The once delicate face of hers had long given way to the wrinkles. The last time I saw her, the wrinkles were not as prominent as they seemed to be now. I let out a sigh. Then suddenly, I sensed an impatient grip as She brought me to the sofas. I realised how long I had not been here. The level of enthusiasm She showed was quite appalling for me actually because I thought She must have forgotten all about me. Apparently, it was not the case. I was not forgotten. I never had been, the domestic helper beside reminded me as she passed me a packet of green tea.

I took a sip of the tea and then finally began our conversation. 

Saturday, 11 July 2009