Thursday, August 8, 2013

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Rubbing my eyes, trying to get back into the world of reality I sit down with a cup of tea in hand. With the school off for the summer, my house resembles more like a hostel with no rules. I scan the living room, realizing how the inanimate things have a story to tell of the day that went by. There are the Playstation controllers just inviting someone to  trip over them, glasses - on side tables, next to the couch, half a packet of chips, laptops, a couple of wrappers of band-aid, and of course empty bottles of juice tells an untold story about the evening spent among friends. The band-aid wrappers made me wonder what happened at night - but I had to let go of worry - the boys can manage well now .

The  mess, the tell-tale marks of teens having a fun-filled evening reminded me of the signs of my aging body , the burn scars reminding me of the happy meals. the laugh lines of happy times, and each gray hair has a story of its own .  I am fascinated by stories and nothing tells a story more than old objects - antiques, old houses. Each object imbibing  traces of the previous owners, subtly embedding every emotion, every drama in their life.  Every inanimate object, every room, every nook and corner coming to life with history, talking to you, if you care to listen. Some showing signs of care, some sheer neglect and some well-used. But talk they all do.

As my couch grows older, with rips, with sunken pillows, stains maybe, each a tell-tale mark of presence of life. Every corner of my house screams of get a repair, get an update, refresh, yet a part of me feels close to the fingerprints on the wall , the rising marks on the wall indicating the growing heights of kids, every broken door a story of kids out of control, every creaking chair of times well spent.

One day, the house will need an update, one day make my body will get a refreshing change, one day maybe .. but for now I am happy to just relive the happy memories, happy to see the inanimate objects breathing and living and my face proclaiming loud and clear of life well-lived.

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