What the maple leaves wanted to tell . . .

The steps whispered through the fallen maple leaves. The umbrella like trees seemed so silent in breeze. The empty seats of wayside benches reminded me of the times I spent last winter. Sweeping the dried leaves, I sat on one end of a bench. Memories flew like the overwhelming air around me.

It was the season of love, togetherness, and enrichment. We were walking through the park, talking so much about the day’s work-out, issues and fun. The smiling face of him, nothing can defeat it, did never allow me to snatch my eyes from him. He was my best friend ever. The ‘was’ doesn’t mean that now he is not my best friend, but more than above it.

He cracked jokes instantly, but needed to manage often to unlock the laughter behind it. So it became a slogan after each joke that “Oh Yaar!!! Sorry again, I did forget that it’s you”, as I was a delayed responsive in jokes. My, “I didn’t get it”, occasionally made him lose his temper.

 He was so hesitant to show the care though it was deep inside. I could read his eyes and his heart as well. A step ahead in sensing his emotions, I always lost attention to the ambience.

One day, after a long break of silence, we met under the shadows of the maple trees in the evening. Sitting at the two ends of the bench, the silence which surrounded us was fighting hard to find the key to unlock the sense of self.

To be continued . . .