She was here again…
She didn’t mind too much though. Actually, she didn’t mind at all. She loved it here.
“God! It’s soooo beautiful.”
And it was HER special place. No one else came here. She was glad. She wasn’t selfish, goodness, no! She was probably the sweetest person ever. Quiet and shy. Her mum thought she was weird. But this place was hers and she was happy she didn’t have to share.
“It’s so beautiful,” she thought to herself again.
The roses were her favorite. She had loved roses forever, since she could remember. White or red, although she preferred the white ones. There was something pure, almost surreal about them. They gave her peace. She walked to her favorite tree and started to climb. If she sat on the third branch, she could see the entire garden. Because of how big it was, she had never gone around it, but she drank in the beauty every time she was here.
That’s how she felt. The serene environment was an elixir of life. As she drank in the view, her heart, her wounds, they all healed. Nothing could happen to her here. Safe haven. The leaves were green, the vegetation, lush like a virgin’s breasts. The rustle of the trees as they bowed in respect to the Wind when he passed by. The birds chirping away. They didn’t have a care in the world. The sky was always blue, always clear. Sometimes, she felt she could see her reflection in the sky, or perhaps, straight through it. It was so clear. The sun was never harsh, the way it was at home. But it was always there, warming, giving life and light.
A little bird fluttered and landed right next to her. It stared at her. It didn’t seem afraid. As she looked back at the bird, her heart skipped a beat. It was almost like it could see her heart, her scars. It stared sadly into her eyes, and the with its eyes full of worldly wisdom, it pecked her shoulder softly, before flying off.
She clambered down ungracefully. She was almost shaken by her encounter with the bird. Almost. But somehow, nothing could affect her when she was here. It was like she was unable to feel pain or sorrow. Only joy. Pure, unadulterated joy. And peace. She moved toward the rose patch. She was always careful here, because of the thorns. She made her way carefully though, taking in the heavenly scent. She was halfway through the patch, when she felt it. A sharp pain on the inside of her left thigh. She looked, it was a deep gash from an unfriendly looking thorn. It hurt so bad.
The pain brought her back. Her garden was gone. She was in her bed. She adjusted her wrapper, turned and faced the wall as her father quietly made his way out of her room….