Kui enda elus romantika puudub, siis tuleb see välja mõelda. See lugu sai kirjutatud samuti inglise keele kursuse jaoks ning salvestan selle siia ka.
If I were a painting, captured on canvas, you would have to take a close look to truly understand me. With the first glimpse you would see just an empty old bench in the autumnal park. You could notice the colourful leaves on the ground and think “That is just the kind of autumn I like.” However there is a lot more hidden in me, if you just take some time to get to know me.
Can you see the two sitting marks on the frosted bench, as close to each other as they were one? Can you see the sun peeking through the majestic branches, wrapped into the golden coat? The path is covered with a thick layer of bright leaves, tinted by the brush of the autumn. Two lines of footprints, parallel and close, disappear behind the curve.
There is a story behind every picture, sometimes it’s simply hidden in signs. The story, hidden in the painting of a frosty autumn morning, is the story of love. It’s the fairy-tale of two lonesome people who had the miraculous opportunity to find the lost half of their hearts.
The signs tell you about a man and a woman who both used to be lonely and unhappy. They had numerous friends, some just fun to be with and a few really close ones, with whom they could share the deepest darkest secrets. Regardless of it, they both knew something was missing. That something was actually a someone. The One. The one to cuddle up in the couch in front of a fireplace; the one to wait home from work; the one to have a family with.
The stunning and bright woman as well as the caring and successful man lived in the same town, drank their coffee in the same café and spent their Sunday mornings in the same park. Two deserted hearts, longing to be found, had never met before. Until that one springly fresh Sunday morning in May, when the buds on the magnificent old Acer trees were just breaking out.
She was sitting on that old and shabby bench, reading a book and letting the sun fondle her skin. He was jogging and listening some of his favourite music that always helped him to get pass the sleepiness in the morning.
He was totally in his own world, so enchanted by the music and she was entirely absorbed in the book when suddenly a breeze came and flew the postcard, she was keeping as a bookmark, just in front of his feet. He lifted the postcard up and kindly handed it back to her. She smiled thankfully and he jogged on....
Wasn’t it supposed to be a story of love? It is! Just the story wasn’t over yet. The man and the woman were in this park next Sunday as well and the Sunday after that. She was reading and he was jogging by. The only difference was that she wasn’t wrapped up in her book anymore and he wasn’t captivated only by the music, both of them waited impatiently for the Sundays to come.
On another warm day in the park the man was finally brave enough to make the decisive move. He stopped by the bench and handed her a blossom of a Daisy. “You can use this as a bookmark”, he said slyly. This little gesture was the start of the long conversation. Sundays passed and by the midsummer they were madly in love.
Now it’s the end of October and the leaves on the Acer trees are falling down like a golden rain. The leaves on the ground and the park bench are covered with glimmering frost. It is Sunday. The man and the woman come to the park as they always do. They take a seat on the worn-out bench, as close to each other as they were one. After a while they go on, three hearts beating, leaving two lines of footprints, parallel and close into the crackling leaves...
