There she could smell, the Same fragrance, passing by, fading. She turned around swiftly to behold. Nothing, after a scrutiny, yet nothing. Evanished, the aroma, just like that, leaving her dumbstruck. All the memories, moments, rendering her to nostalgia.
I’m sure this happens to everybody. Particular fragrance, music or place reminds you of past. Events anterior to the outbreak of all the grief. Reminiscence of someone, something or someplace leads to sudden morose.
Here you get two ways which lead you to very different thoroughfares.
She thought for a while, depressed, tearful, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and started running.
Making her way through the crowd, leaving everything behind, carelessly, unconcerned about what’s going on around her. She very well knew where she was going. She ran, panting, breathlessly she stopped. Stopped finally when she was there.
A huge stretch of grass, with all the flowers blossomed, and an endless lake prevailed in front on her.
A soothing fragrance of daisies and roses, the birds hosannaing her. With a smile she stretched out her arms to let go all the melancholy and distress and smile brighter.
This soothing atmosphere let her forget everything which hurt her and gave her all the strength to live her present unabridged and look forward to her future.
All the tranquil didn’t thrust into her, there isn’t any magic around which would instantly make her happy. She let it go in. She took a first step towards happiness. It was her choice whether to let the fragrance or memory ruin her mood or let it disappear as quickly as the fragrance had vanished.
The scars of the wound won’t disappear instantly but they would definitely fade away if you evade them.
Past is a diary which you have already done writing. It would make you embrace the beautiful days you spent out there but present is a diary you are handy with to write and make it worth reading later and adore.
Time would be wasted exalting limited honors of past. Focus on what you have next on, once again, a new chapter of life.
Picture courtesy: Internet