Cottage: The one in Woods

It was a new place for her. The new town furnished with green air and humbleness in abundance. She wiped her past in her pinafore and worked as a maid in that cottage. Through the little window in her workplace, she made it possible to perceive a portion of people’s life whenever someone passed by.

There was a bridge on the way to the cottage. The one she never got slightest of opportunity to cross. A brook flowed under this very bridge, the quaintness of which was so appealing the passengers were compelled not to cross the bridge without pausing for the moment. This very moment the brook helped her see the very image of their being. 

An old man passes by the bridge every day. He sees sunshine when he leans to penetrate through the depths of flowing water. He was a widower with no children left to take care of. He sees sunshine because that is the way he feels walking back home after spending a long day at orphanage with children keenly listening and applauding his stories. 

A young boy passes by the bridge every day. The brook, as soon as she sees him, gears up. The boy then throws a pebble down the bridge in a way nuclear bombs are bombarded in world wars. In the most artistic way possible, fine and concentric ripples are formed. The brook gets an equally artistic smile on the face of the boy.

A sister from the Baptist church passes by the bridge every day. She bends down to see the face of brook which hustles in a way psalms are chanted.

These people had somewhere occupied a place in that girl’s daily life. Besides, the girl waited for someone else. The person seemed to exist not in the proximity of her conscience. A person to who even the brook did not answer.

Even he passed by the bridge every day. To him, perhaps, the brook spoke of nihility. Neither did the water whine nor did it grizzle, but simply flowed.

All she did was waited near the window each day for him to come, each day for him to come and the brook to answer to his questions or rather her questions.

P.S.: There are numerous facets of life. One fine day, try out living without experiencing a particular one.