The Story Of Untold Words

The dull evening was rather exciting. I always loved rains in the evening, and in the mornings, also in the afternoon. Well, it wouldn't matter anymore because everyone says I'm a "GROWN UP ".

The breeze humbly embraced me through the windows of my room, soothing my inner self through the windows of my soul. I invited those little drizzles with all my heart and the rich smell of petrichor made me purified. This unmixed feeling of happiness and grief pulled me back to those nostalgic moments which I wished I stayed there in a never-ending loop of time.

'Whenever, you're worried about something., write that down on a sheet of paper, make that paper into a rocket and let it drift away through the breeze. Once it's gone it will ease out ' my mother had said on a rainy evening of long past memory.

A smile stretched and struggled to rise through my aged cheeks as I remembered my mother.

The paper danced with the breeze waiting to be inked through the untold words of my soul and so I write as it's the only way to express my feelings.

One could probably place a question

What could women worry about in her old age?

Well, the answer is in the question. Old age.

Age takes a toll on everyone and I was not an exception. I occasionally remember my childhood days and it feels like a long lost story of a mischievous girl who never knew anything else than happiness. I remember those days in a blur and it gets fading as I move on with age.

I wish I play in the rain again. I wish I never got aged. I wish I can go around wherever I want and do whatever I need without being questioned. I wish people don't sympathize me for my old age.  I wish I could stay longer in this beautiful world.

Her fingers trembled as she lay down the pen and with her tongue out she flooded the page into a rocket with childish excitement.

'Sweet ' she called through her meek voice and a ten-year-old girl ran into the room. She gave a peck on the girl's cheek.

'Could you help me out the veranda my darling ?' she asked with a warm smile.

'Sure granny ' the girl said elegantly grabbing the handle of the wheelchair, pushed through the room and stopped at the railings of the veranda. The drizzles seemed to have ceased except for constantly blowing breeze which shagged their hairs. The lady took in the chilly breath as she held up the paper rocket trembling and looked down on it with a brief grievance.

'Paper rocket? ' said the little girl with excitement, 'what's written in it ?' she added curiously

' This… is soul inked on a paper ' she replied with a smile and the little girl gave a confused look.

She looked the paper rocket for a second and flew it into the air innocently, the rocket whizzed and circled around the breeze and finally drifted into the Oblivion. She gave a relaxed smile and mumbled :

' I feel better '