For your eyes only

This is the story of a strange friendship: between a little girl and a terrace. She was three when she moved into the house. It was an old house, with no paint and dilapidating construction. The terrace was on the second floor, paintless, leaves growing out of the cracked cement and broken ledges. Now this may not be a warming sight to us adults, but a three year old sees things, which we do not see. Theirs was a small family, her parents and herself.Her mother went away to teach in a school and taught students even after that. Her father was an executive in some office and took immense pride in his lack of leisure. This left her with unbounded time to make her own friends.So she made friends with the terrace. Together they played a novel game. Standing on the parapet she would try and spot some thing new everyday. It could be a house, a tree, a window, or even a bit of sky, as long it was a new sight.Together she and her friend went exploring the horizon everyday and she was never disappointed.One day she heard her mother complaining about the banal self same sights the terrace offered. She was both amused and indignant and hoped that adulthood never stole her of her imagination.Their game advanced, the terrace showed her new ledges to climb and new railings to ride. And the wonder of this was, that a new height meant a new view. After the tour de force, the same tree appeared bigger, greener and even showed a bit of its bark! She held her tea party with her imaginary friends and together they rendered novelty to the horizon everyday. Then one day she was told that life has improved and they will be moving to a better house. Their new house would not have chipping paints, broken banisters, aimless branches meandering the parapet.
So when she was eleven she moved to this brand new house, with a shining coat of paint, a flawless terrace without leaves peeking out of the cracks in the cement and a bright new banister.
Friends, when they part, exchange gifts to commemorate their togetherness.She too wanted to give something to her best friend of eight years. She left her imagination, her vision with the terrace. That way it would never fade with age but thrive and enrich with time.Today almost two decades later, all her imagination remains trapped in the same place. Maybe fairy tales are not mere tales.