Today will be the last day in this house. House no. 519 that we stepped into, two and half years ago. Although it takes a lot of time for me to accept a house as my home, this time around it happened with a drop of a hat.
The nostalgia is picking my pieces and strewing them all over like "goodbye" notes I want to leave for this space I fell in love with, without second thoughts.
From watching pretty birds in our backyard most of which I couldn't identify, but being a silent onlooker to their antics and actions let time pass away and was any day better than being a social networking addict. Particularly I remember a tiny bird with blue green feathers that used to hop playfully around the big curry tree in the lawn. To growing tomatoes, brinjals and spinach. They always gleamed in greenery because they were grown with fresh water and organic manure as supplies. To standing aimlessly with a cup of tea in my favourite white mug polka dotted in green, in the darkness of a night lit by the fullness of a moon, trying to gaze at a comet that the newspapers were taking of to going hard on an undiscovered UFO that I hoped will appear from nowhere, all thanks to the amateurish astronomer dreams I have. I got used to the afternoon naps after we came over here, that started keeping me awake on nights. This gave everybody the perception that I was one unblinking owl that could never find rest in the gloaming obscurity when only our thin tall gatekeeper was at work, baby sitting cars of various shapes and sizes. There were many people who tried to horsewhip me on the unhealthy habits I followed, but the truth is I was getting my dose of the doze in the afternoon and early evening.
To reading through the nights perched atop the couch cross legged like a saint, until my bones didn't lay numb or I didn't droop like a leaf decaying to autumn's angst. To the home delivery I so loved on days I didn't want to cook, especially from Slice of Italy when the family went on their trips. My favourite times were when mom and dad went to the hometown for a month. That was the time that solitude seemed as comforting as my favorite ballad by Whitney Houston. Both could quell the storm in my soul more easily than a bar of chocolate could. Feeling comfortable in my own skin and wearing my emotions on my sleeve were two of the most important lessons this beautiful house gave me. No matter wherever I live after this, I know I'll always remember these important messages, that the off-white walls of this rectangular large house had to give me. Posing for pictures in the front yard was another favourite activity again with a cup of tea, staring straight at the sun melting the dew on flowers. Another cherished custom was walking around the house when stuffed with food because it went around like a merry-go-round and I loved the ride! While opening the door for Roger anticipating his arrival after a late night party, without making the door screech made me a perfect night watch woman!
Most of all will miss 'Billa' my darling mischief monger who happens to loiter around in the backyard sometimes looking for a little food and many times for a lot of love. I never knew I had this strong ardor for cats until I met my feline friend on a cold winter evening one Friday. When he was looking for a place to hide from the incessant rains and I couldn't stop myself from placing a piece of abandoned furniture as a makeshift cubbyhole.
And yes, I'll definitely always be thankful to this house for teaching me to fall in love again. Although as always, I had to bid goodbye to him in a careless act of charity, my eyes will always be misty when I will think of J and all the times we spent over the phone. I think we don't have many dates to boast of since he lives in another country, but all I ever shared with him in these three years will stay with me, in honor of a love that healed me of hateful apathy. When talking was more miserable than hearing each other breathe, miles away. When imagining him at the corner of our street wearing those square rimmed spectacles was easier than telling him that I had fallen head over heals in love with him. When writing poetry for him gave those nauseating nights a reason to susurrate. To the first meeting that was a comedy of errors, and even then I could never tell him, my one big secret. To the day he proposed for marriage and in a whiff of a moment my heart learned to skip a beat. This house gave me love, pure perfect love that my egocentric arrogance didn't deserve.
I'll miss you dear House no.519. You have become a favourite friend of mine, I would often like to visit on my leisurely trips to this place.
The nostalgia is picking my pieces and strewing them all over like "goodbye" notes I want to leave for this space I fell in love with, without second thoughts.
From watching pretty birds in our backyard most of which I couldn't identify, but being a silent onlooker to their antics and actions let time pass away and was any day better than being a social networking addict. Particularly I remember a tiny bird with blue green feathers that used to hop playfully around the big curry tree in the lawn. To growing tomatoes, brinjals and spinach. They always gleamed in greenery because they were grown with fresh water and organic manure as supplies. To standing aimlessly with a cup of tea in my favourite white mug polka dotted in green, in the darkness of a night lit by the fullness of a moon, trying to gaze at a comet that the newspapers were taking of to going hard on an undiscovered UFO that I hoped will appear from nowhere, all thanks to the amateurish astronomer dreams I have. I got used to the afternoon naps after we came over here, that started keeping me awake on nights. This gave everybody the perception that I was one unblinking owl that could never find rest in the gloaming obscurity when only our thin tall gatekeeper was at work, baby sitting cars of various shapes and sizes. There were many people who tried to horsewhip me on the unhealthy habits I followed, but the truth is I was getting my dose of the doze in the afternoon and early evening.
To reading through the nights perched atop the couch cross legged like a saint, until my bones didn't lay numb or I didn't droop like a leaf decaying to autumn's angst. To the home delivery I so loved on days I didn't want to cook, especially from Slice of Italy when the family went on their trips. My favourite times were when mom and dad went to the hometown for a month. That was the time that solitude seemed as comforting as my favorite ballad by Whitney Houston. Both could quell the storm in my soul more easily than a bar of chocolate could. Feeling comfortable in my own skin and wearing my emotions on my sleeve were two of the most important lessons this beautiful house gave me. No matter wherever I live after this, I know I'll always remember these important messages, that the off-white walls of this rectangular large house had to give me. Posing for pictures in the front yard was another favourite activity again with a cup of tea, staring straight at the sun melting the dew on flowers. Another cherished custom was walking around the house when stuffed with food because it went around like a merry-go-round and I loved the ride! While opening the door for Roger anticipating his arrival after a late night party, without making the door screech made me a perfect night watch woman!
Most of all will miss 'Billa' my darling mischief monger who happens to loiter around in the backyard sometimes looking for a little food and many times for a lot of love. I never knew I had this strong ardor for cats until I met my feline friend on a cold winter evening one Friday. When he was looking for a place to hide from the incessant rains and I couldn't stop myself from placing a piece of abandoned furniture as a makeshift cubbyhole.
And yes, I'll definitely always be thankful to this house for teaching me to fall in love again. Although as always, I had to bid goodbye to him in a careless act of charity, my eyes will always be misty when I will think of J and all the times we spent over the phone. I think we don't have many dates to boast of since he lives in another country, but all I ever shared with him in these three years will stay with me, in honor of a love that healed me of hateful apathy. When talking was more miserable than hearing each other breathe, miles away. When imagining him at the corner of our street wearing those square rimmed spectacles was easier than telling him that I had fallen head over heals in love with him. When writing poetry for him gave those nauseating nights a reason to susurrate. To the first meeting that was a comedy of errors, and even then I could never tell him, my one big secret. To the day he proposed for marriage and in a whiff of a moment my heart learned to skip a beat. This house gave me love, pure perfect love that my egocentric arrogance didn't deserve.
I'll miss you dear House no.519. You have become a favourite friend of mine, I would often like to visit on my leisurely trips to this place.
2 comments:
Changing houses is like leaving a lifetime and entering another one. The memories associated are the worst nightmares! I'm glad you had some lovely memories in 519. I wish you a beautiful life ahead in the new abode and may the home and you weave some magic memories.
Love and cheers.
Joy always,
Susan
A nice recount of memories that made a home in your heart. Hope you make great new ones at your new residence as well!
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