Following The Footsteps…

This time I am writing about something children just yearn for and I was one of them who loved playing in the grass. I know it’s a weird subject to write on, but those who have had the ‘privilege’ to enjoy in softness of grass would relish the very thought of walking on it, especially early in the winter mornings.
I remember how we boys would love falling on the grass, playing cricket on it, or just running around. When I was a child, we had a huge lush green lawn in front of our house surrounded with a hedge on one side, covered with a thick flowering of sweet peas, while the other sides were surrounded by colourful flowerbeds.
I still remember how our gardener would prune the grass with a manual lawnmower, and he so fondly manicured the grass just as a barber would do for a short snazzy hairstyle. Even during summers it would take him whole day just doing that.

He was too immaculate in his work and would never leave it unfinished till the lawn would get a neat look like a soldier just out of a barber shop! And that day we were not allowed to step on it, and he was actually stern about it. He would shout at us even if we dared to. By evening or late night when he would leave, we children would make it sure to roll all over in the grass for hours till our moms would call us inside fearing we might fall ‘victim’ to some insect on the prowl!

Not to miss was the early morning walk in the lawn, which my mom and dad so much loved, and at times I would also join them to walk along. But what would fascinate me more than just walking were the footsteps, which would be embedded so neatly on the dew laden grass. I followed their footsteps so fondly then out of fun, and do that even now, though not on the grass, but in life and that too gladly and proudly!