I feel privileged
to have a small veranda always
In our house
The veranda has woven
hundreds of stories
Sometimes,
It seems like a shawl of memories
Wrapping me in a cold winter night
When everyone is asleep
But I come here to seek
My answers from someone.
In the midst of the veil of mist
Waiting outside
I feel scared
What if I never find
The stories I left behind?
But the veranda never fails to give me its reply
For it hides its answer
In the silent whisper,
“Your stories are never lost
They are with you, always
Sometimes they want you
To find them
To reach them
To unveil them
Your stories want you
As much as you want them.”

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(This post is part of the series ‘Solace in the Mundaneness’ where I try to tell stories of the everyday things that capture a special place in my heart and they make me feel privileged to live a simple and ordinary life with contentment and peace. This post is also part of Blogchatter A to Z.)