One evening, as I wandered around my neighborhood, I stumbled upon a small, serene garden across the street from my home. The gate creaked as I pushed it open, and the dry leaves crunched beneath my feet. The vibrant bougainvillea flowers, though beautiful, broke my heart as I inadvertently stepped on them.

As I approached the bench, the rustling leaves seemed to whisper secrets. I slowed my pace, hesitant to disturb the peaceful atmosphere. The empty bench beckoned me, its allure irresistible. I stood before it, mesmerized, before finally sitting down.

In that moment, the bench became my confidant, my friend. Over the years, I returned to it whenever I needed solace, a listening ear, or simply a quiet refuge. I shared my deepest thoughts, and the bench welcomed me with open arms. Its silence was comforting, its presence reassuring.

Sometimes, I’d find flowers on the bench, as if it had been waiting for me. Other times, it would be spotless, devoid of leaves or debris. Yet, it always offered me companionship, a sense of belonging.

But life took me elsewhere, and I moved to a new home. The garden, and my beloved bench, were left behind. Though I no longer visit, the memories of our time together remain etched in my heart.”

Much love,
Simishka ❤️