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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1897596-The-Garden
by Mango
Rated: E · Short Story · Environment · #1897596
This is the my first piece of writing I ever liked. Positive criticism is welcomed.
As I sat there, under the oak tree, my mind travelled through the time when I was just an infant to who I am today. It is not possible that being myself was my individual effort. Many people played important and prominent parts in shaping me and pull me towards where I stand today. I, in my mind, paid gratitude to them and thought what I just went through with the person who was the most active in leading my life. It was none other than my mother.



I had an argument with my mother, about half an hour ago, and due to my temper and my ego, I called out that I was leaving. I knew that I was being irrational and that I had no place to go, yet I took the decision, and once when I was out of the main door, I seriously realized how hopeless I was as no matter what I could not leave my house. So, I decided to hide in the garden and sat under the oak tree and there my mind was free to its own will, exploring the past, the present and the future, travelling from the people I despised  to the people I loved and to the people towards whom I had no feelings.  However, it halted when it reached my mother.



Every thought of the argument, filled my being with more guilt. And to cutback the pangs of conscience, I recollected what she had done, not only for me but for everyone. My mind over-flowed with every commitment, effort and accomplishment of hers. And then it struck my mind, that where I am seated now is also her effort.



Ten years back, I remember her planting this tree. It was not only the tree that she planted but the garden where now I sat was all her work. And then I started noticing her creation, the garden. Beauty flowed from all its corners, as if spring had lasted forever here. This garden was a heaven, where everything was beautiful and fresh, and it radiated happiness, joy and aura.  The garden appeared to be green, drenched in different shades of green. The view seemed as if it was an interpretation of some painter’s work. I took a deep breath and was intoxicated with the fragrance of the red roses, the white lilies, the yellow tulips. Every flower had its own redolent aroma.  The abundant flora overflowed the garden's boundaries and added to the charm of the garden.  The garden was magical and welcoming.  There were four rose beds in the garden, which had different kinds of flora rooted in them. There at a corner of the garden stood a water fountain with water gushing out of it. The birds and other inhabitants of the garden surrounded the fountain. It truly was a beauty.



I had never, before, in my life noticed that such delicacy existed in my own house. And the garden that rendered colour and ecstasy was all the product of her hard work.  I was thankful to her. She not only formed the very garden that situated inside the boundaries of my house but she molded the garden of which I and her, and everyone else, was a part. The garden to whom we refer as family. My family was surely like a garden, large with life and it was all just because of her, only her. And I realized that she was the essence, the aura and the bliss of our garden.



My lips curved into a smile, and I took a deep breath as I lifted myself from the ground as rushed towards the main door.  Streaming inside, I grasped my mother in a tight hug and said ‘Mom, You are the rose; I love you and will do, always and forever.’
© Copyright 2012 Mango (fish15 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1897596-The-Garden