A Journey Called Life …

“How quick and rushing life can sometimes seem, when at the same time it’s so slow and sweet and everlasting.” ― Tomorrow

In my side of the world, spring passes quickly. If I haven’t been out with my camera for two weeks, I find trees in floral. If I don’t see those trees for another week, the trees hide themselves in light green leaves. And then in another week, there are so green that suddenly the world looks summery.

That is spring here. Always racing with time. Just like life.

That year, it was a spring afternoon. I stood on my patio, looking out. All the big patios before my eyes were empty. As if everyone decided to be inside to hide from the cold air. There was one patio that I loved observing for hours. A patio decorated with bright bougainvillea. Bright in three seasons of the year. Brightest in spring. I never saw potted bougainvillea so happily embracing someone’s home. If you’ve heard about “love at first sight,” it was one for me, that day.

A year passed. Whenever I opened my patio door, that bougainvillea plant from my neighbor’s patio waved at me. As if it was the symbol of perfection. As if it was a symbol of a beautiful home from a fairy-tale. Soon I felt so influenced that I bought a bougainvillea plant for my patio. Same hot pink color. Same brightness. Small in size, so that it could grow.

I watered it everyday. I changed the soil time to time. It blossomed soon. It made my patio look like the mirror image of the one before me.

The neighbors also put a bicycle beside the plant.A bicycle and a bougainvillea. Doesn’t that sound mesmerizing? I almost wanted to knock on their door and do a photo-shoot.

But I didn’t. Because that’s how I am, after growing up in big cities. I hardly make time to talk to neighbors.

Four years passed. One morning, I saw a strange change. I noticed new people on their patio. Our old neighbors left. So did their bougainvillea plant and the bicycle. 

Just like life. Just like spring. Just like time. Neighbors move. Though some of them leave marks in our life. We move on too. Only memory remains. So does the bougainvillea plant, lightening up our home.

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