WHISPERS OF A HOMEMAKER

The heart of the house

- Mansi Chaturvedi

It has been years that I have been in here, and these are the boundaries that I do not cross. Boundaries that keep me comfortable in a way but talk a lot about me when I am not there. I hear them scream and shout at those whom I leave behind. They look confused as they hear everything that was me, but I am invisible to them. They say I am missing, yes, from where I used to be. The walls hear someone shout out for me when they come in. The walls have seen them rush in and out and have even seen them in silence when I am not there.

Strange it is but true that the walls know all about me more than you all do. I have been in with them. At times, cleaning the cobweb that just found a place in those corners that stood unnoticed or never given heed. At times, I have just brightened them up with something so creative, giving them a new look or a new life. I have gazed at them when no one is around. I remember when I had first entered this place. An empty space that just made me feel I was welcomed, and since the day I entered, I was here, just here.