Words of Wisdom Lay Etched on Her Skin…Stories Untold

My grandmother was a woman of purpose. A self-sufficient and independent woman who liked to do things on her own. That is one of the things that i admire most about her. In her dainty, frail hands was strength and courage. The wrinkles that adorned her skin were stories of the past. Stories that had me sitting in awe and begging for more.

It was my grandmother who taught me the art of pressing flowers. Her love for preserving the beauty, in a different more mesmerising form, was transferred to me. Her love for nature became my own and i found life among the flowers, trees and mountains. The grass spoke out to me, whispering sweet nothings. The trees swayed to the song of the wind and i twirled with a sole hibiscus and the breeze in my hair.

Weekly stories of her past, that i begged for her to recall in agonising detail i looked forward to. Her past. The life she lived in a Hogwarts of her own made my mouth hang agape. She would close it, laughing at the possibility that a fly might find its way in. Her laugh, a melody more sweeter than a bird’s song. It still resonates through my ears. Her cold fingers that mine encompassed in warmth.

There was something very prim and proper about her, which unfortunately i did not inherit. Not a single strand of hair out of place. Her saris pressed and ironed to perfection, not a single crease in sight. Her bed made, not a single corned un-tucked  that is till it saw the sight of me. She berated my mother about my carelessness and apparent laziness. Yes, my room still remains a mess.

I don’t quite know how i got through that initial phase of disbelief and loss. But i did. I think it had something to do with her. She never left my side, even though she was no longer physically present. She appeared in my dreams, a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Or going about her garden up keeps. But she was there even if she wasn’t.

 

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Dear You,

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Dear You,

I know there have been times when you’ve felt un-loved, ugly and just downright invisible. But there is something you need to know. You are none of those things. Within you is a voice fiercer than a lion’s roar that speaks of love and rights and the brighter things of life. If they don’t love you, then they don’t deserve you. You are quiet and reserved but because you have untold stories that you save for those that matter. So what if you’re not that loud individual that has the attention of people in the palm of their hands, you are your own person. Your own you. You are gorgeous and those who don’t see it are blind. Your beauty resonates from every inch of your skin and bursts from within you. And that my friend is all that matters.

You are the pink hue in the sunrise that encompasses everyone’s attention and leaves them in awe. You are the green in the sky that one has a hard time capturing. You are a book of untold stories just waiting to be read. Exclusive to only those who take the time out to pick you up, flip the pages of your life and make a genuine effort to know who you are. And if they don’t, then sweetie, don’t waste your tears on them. They were never worth them. Remember, they only make you a stronger and wiser person. You just know after a while who is worth it or not and that is all that matters.

You have dreams, they scream. Louder than a baby’s first cry. Louder than thunder in a storm. Respect. They respect you. And they trust you. And they come to you. Your smile is something they yearn to see because it brings forth with it a brighter day. She said your smile stops them in their tracks. You’ve never seen it, but you take her word for it. And that is all that matters.

                                                                                                                        Love, Me.