My Happy Place
By Chandu Singathi
As my bare thighs come in contact
with the rough wooden bench and my skinny fingers feel the bumps in the old
tan-colored paint, feelings of familiarity and freedom stir inside me. After
what feels like an endless week of hard work, experiencing the closeness of the
nature surrounding me brings back my sense of comfort and belonging and makes
me feel at home. The subtle winds bring chills up my spine and shift the
position of my hair, tickling my bare neck ever so slightly. As I observe the
departure of the sun for the day, the sky slowly breaks out into hundreds of
shades of red. Peering between the cracks of the tall oak tree’s array of
leaves, I catch glimpses of the giant descending ball of fire as it goes on its
daily retreat. Stunned, I shift my gaze from the sky to the variety of
multicolored leaves slowly dying on the oak tree, and I lay my eyes on
exuberant reds, oranges, and yellows becoming illuminated under the setting
sun’s rays. Whenever feelings of stress take over my mind, I retreat to my deck,
taking in the peacefulness of the atmosphere and temporarily freeing myself
from worries and problems. While I bathe in the beauty of the nature in my
backyard, my thoughts begin to flow more freely and I speculate on various
issues, or I sit with a still mind and simply observe the slightly overgrown
grass covered in fallen leaves as well as the aged oak trees scattered around
the area. During most Friday evenings, the addicting aroma of my mother’s
famous chicken rice makes its way to my position on the largest deck in the
community, and I remember the familiarity of eating that same dish almost every
Friday for the past ten years. The burning sensation of the onions’ scent mixed
in with the fresh smell of coriander stimulates my thoughts and memories, but I
do not become shaken by these feelings. Instead, I remain on the wooden bench
and peek at the back doors and windows of my neighbors’ houses, suddenly
obtaining the sensation of being watched. Seeing no one and feeling completely
separated from the world, I take a few deep breaths and inhale the fresh scent
of the marigold flowers sprouting in the garden a few feet away from the deck,
and I almost taste the revitalizing flavor of the mint leaves growing beside
them. The natural green pigment of the mint leaves brings me to my senses,
invigorating me from within and releasing any last knots of tension inside me.
Before I know it, the crickets’ consistent chirps and the fireflies’ sudden
bursts of light signal the coming of night, and I realize that dinnertime
arrives. While I make myself taller and approach the back door, I hear the
hooting of an owl from a distance, and my attempts to glimpse the owls results
in my sight of nothing but tall, dark oaks with a few crumpled leaves remaining
on them. As I make my way back inside my house, the cold wood under my bare
feet sends chills up my legs, pushing me to increase my speed. While my
nearly-frozen fingers embrace the door handle, I hear the familiar voices of my
favorite Indian television actors and actresses along with the noise of my
family members in the kitchen, and I scurry into my house before all the food
is gone.
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