Soul of the House

Palatial building of my Grandma, once in grandeur and pomp ran full of kith -kin -cousins on extended family. The staircase leading to roof with shiny banister on polished brass coating attracted all visitors. Any one ever met Grandma got charmed with her pleasing persona. The residence was my birthplace. So far, I remember on my visit, when I was four, Grandma put a flyer under porch of the house. Flyer was a dazzling golden satin cloth designed and stitched by herself with sparkling red spangles showing ‘Welcome Little Princess’ Onward whenever I visited, I saw that flyer in same gorgeous glow. She died when I was seventeen. And that was my last visit on her cremation. After sixty years I revisited the decaying house. Doors ,windows almost in broken condition: Rusted creaky latch in gate. Garden Once bloomed mostly in white fragrant flowers spreading pellucid placid calmness, now , no remnants left. It is full of feral ferns, wild weeds and thorny bushes. Most unexpected scenario : I was not shocked yet sighed. Whelmed to see the dusty bland flyer still hanging and showing ‘Welcome Little Princess’. Spangles embedded on pale flyer still in shimmering sheen. That four year old pretty princess now approaching eighty. Sun rays are making network of shadows through cracked lattice . The abandoned house greeted me through zephyr whispering ‘ Welcome home.’ I felt warmth of the soul of empty house. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I didn’t wipe off the flow but silently wept.