Peaches and plums. Forget the strawberries.

Peaches and plums, a hint of red; and in between, rests, everything that ever stood for warmth.

Even the green the grass wears seems welcoming, as if every single dew-drop has gone out of its way to make the story more appealing to your eyes.

Happy picture?

 She had grown accustomed to the dark,even inviting it in, more so out of habit than anything else. We seek the familiar,don’t we?
She shifts her elbow, now supporting her face, lying down, in bed. She sits, waiting for her stroke of genius, the reverberation of her thoughts,nearly deafening.

We live in a masquerade of dignity, our swords nothing but eye candy and our armour, rusted. Chunks falling out, with every look we’re faced to make over our backs. Certainly not the pretty picture you wanted it to be. And well even if pictures could be pretty, who said truth ever is?

It wasn’t like melancholy came crashing down her  with a shield so weak, and rattled though she would be, peace visited her more often than the storms. It was the tainted image of every one (which included herself) that she had conjured up, which had taken its own place in her mind and now,refused to budge,the images tormented her. And they shook the very foundations on which her world and ideals were built. The fact that she too was equally pathetic, if not more, crushed her, repeatedly, in waves of shame. And visits to these shady corners left her speechless, out of the sheer humiliation they brought.

We have our own definitions of misery, and we differ in how we measure it too. What makes the guy she met today, have sleepless nights, may not even make her flinch.And maybe what makes her stay up all night, may only make someone else have a good laugh.

Staring at the walls since the past few hours, she  now lets out a chuckle, “ I’m winning,you know” But her muffled laughter doesn’t bother the wall, it still stands tall, unflustered.

Escaping into some careless,wreckless journey for her mind is no more a solution. It long lost its allure.

The one comfort she knows is that love takes you out of the guilt ride you’ve  taken. Love smothers you, spoils you. But then, love accepts you. And makes you accept yourself too, more often than not.
So,this toast, to love.
Ready to doze off, she turns her head, only to see a reflection, another picture, only so real. A kid, his hair the shade of sunlight and eyes glimmering as bright as the sun itself, is staring right back at her.

He’s beckoning the world to indulge in a smile.Who is she to resist?

And then she remembers how much he loves kids. And, she is all smiles.