Here’s a story I have to share. I’ll be blunt and toneless. I have no emotions for it.
Few months back, I was at my Uncle’s country house. Big and green. It was night. Dark, cold. And suddenly there was this storm. I love anything that has to do with wind. All of my cousins sprinted outside and went mad. I sat on the steps and was way too happy. Life was nice. Life was.. okhay
And I would listen to no one. Nothing bothered me. That was the time when my happiness was not polluted by ill thoughts. The storm raged and the trees they flaked, branches lashing through the brutal wind. I had no idea. I was young and.. stupid.
There is that tree in the lawn. It was planted by my grandma. Everyone loves it. It consisted of three main trunks. Whether it was one tree or three.. I never bothered to find out
So in the morning we saw one of the trunk bent. No doubt hit by the wind so hard. My Aunt saw it and said that it won’t last. It’ll die. I contradicted.. Come on Mami (aunt) it’s just bent.. even split but it’ll live, (I have a thing for going for people or things less loved and less known, contradicted and mistaken) She looked at me and said.. It’s been shaken from the roots, honey. The weather was unkind. They’ll cut it
Sure enough. Two days; it wilted and went yellow. Uncle took an axe and cut it and threw it at the side of the lawn, sorry for his mother’s memory
I never felt so dead
Months have gone by. That trunk has been covered with moss. Mushrooms and grass and a few flowers have grown over it. People don’t even recognize it. Nor do they sit under that tree anymore. They say.. it’s lost the cool shade. They say.. the two trunks, blooming with green leaves, can’t give shade to a lot of people now.
It’s not Autumn already…
(Title : Shakespeare’s sonnet 98 and A book by Agatha Christie)