Tucked away from the noise and the hustle and bustle of everyday life is a little garden—or could I indeed describe it as a garden? Oh well, it didn't hold any form of physical grandeur or fame—just a small, quiet piece of land behind my Papa's house. But to me, it was magical.
Right at the center of the land stood a big tree with an arched trunk, forming what seemed like a natural bench. Every morning, it bloomed with petals dipped in shades of white, baby pink, and the softest butter yellow. The flowers looked like nature’s watercolor, delicate and dreamy. But it was the scent that lingered—a warm, creamy note of vanilla swirled with the richness of fresh butter and a hint of musk that clung to your skin long after you’d left.
That tree wasn’t just part of the yard; it was a presence, a keeper of quiet afternoons and whispered thoughts. Beneath its shade, the world always felt kinder.
Rays from the sun peeked from behind the tree's leaves, casting golden patches on the ground like scattered blessings. Oh, the sweet, melodious hums from different birds just make you want to grow wings and soar! The feel of the cool, soft breeze against my cheeks felt like the softest silk.
There on the arched trunk of the tree, worn smooth by time, I’d sit, legs folded in an embrace or simply leaning back, relaxed. A book in hand or headphones on, with sweet musical tunes playing, I would get lost in thoughts and beautiful imaginings. In this space, the world is on hold—no to-do lists, no tiresome activities, just tranquility, peace, and sweet quiet.
This place holds wonderful memories—of laughter, imaginative plays and fantasies, and silence shared with loved ones. It's where I first learned to really listen, to be still, and to appreciate deeply.
In this pleasant place, time stands still, and I'm free. Free from unrealistic expectations, free from worries and anxiety, free to just breathe, love myself, and simply be me.
Image was AI generated
Thank for reading through.
