A Story to Share…

Salam dear friends,

A good time ;)
A good time 😉

Today, I’m really happy cause I’m going to share with you a story that I wrote months ago 🙂 🙂 🙂  The story is about… 😉

No No, I’m not going to tell what the story’s about. You’ll have to read it to find out 🙂 😉

Hope you’ll like ❤


The Garden of Words



         I have always believed that words are a powerful weapon. They can hurt you, or be your best friend… I have learned this lesson a very long time ago, when I was still learning about the reality of the charm and innocent life of days and decades past. A reality that turned out to be a mistaken one.


         I was fourteen, when I found myself alone, completely alone. My parents decided suddenly to move out to another city, and I was surounded by different people, different streets, and no friends. What made my life more sad and difficult is the fact that my parents were happy. Actually, they were very happy that they did not notice how I felt. I lived in a beautiful house, a house that I did not want to live in or remember, a house with so many rooms, or shall I say with too many rooms. We did not use the kitchen on the second floor, half of the rooms were empty, and I hated it. Living in that house was not a choice, it was a thing that I had to bear.

          Near this house, there was a garden, and this garden was where I most belonged. The garden was not like what we would imagine a garden like. It was not like what we would see in movies, or read about in books : rocks were everywhere, some four or five olive trees, and magic was the story behind every single corner .

          When I first went there, I did not want to be there, but somehow I stayed. I stayed not because of the colors nor the trees; I stayed because something deep inside told me to do so. Every summer day of that hot strange summer, I was there. I went there looking for something, but I did not know where to look, how to look, or even what to look for.

           Each word tells a story, and a garden full of words has always been a place where stories begin and end.


         One day when I was walking as usual, a woman called me, and I went closer. She was an old woman, with an elegant outfit. What I liked the most about her was her smile, a beautiful smile that makes you believe for an instant that life is good, everything is going to be fine, and you’re going to be happy. She looked at me, and the first thing she said was : Smile, stop being sad. I stared at her for a minute or so, then I walked away withoud saying a word. I walked home, and I thought that I could have said something ; something like « thank you » or «  I ‘ll try ». I could have said anything, but I did not.

          After meeting her that day, I came back every day wishing to see her, talk to her, and maybe apologize.

          A week later, here she was, sitting in the same spot, looking so beautiful and calm. I walked towards her, and she smiled, and before saying anything, she said : « Have you thought of what I said before, have you even tried to do it… you’re still young, forget your silly little problems and smile » after a pause, she added : « look at those people here. Each one of them have a way of thinking of their own, a life, and problems, real problems. But, they still come here smiling, trying to forget, to forgive, and to change, or just to be here. ».

         I did not know what to say, and I don’t think I said a word. It was that kind of moments where you just need to listen. She gave me that look again, the look of comfort, and started telling me about her life. She was a strong woman, who lived and survived despite what happend to her. She married the love of her life, believed in him, and trusted in every word he said. This perfect husband destroyed her life : he lied, cheated on her with her best friend, and made her life a living hell. She told me that when she discovered that her entire life was a lie, she stopped believing. She gave birth to one child, a boy that made – and I quote- her life worth living. At the age of 15, her little boy died, and she became alone, sad, and miserable.

         She came to this garden, the garden of hope, as she described it, for the first time 20 years ago.She was sitting in the same spot, started talking to different people with different  stories. Their stories made her see life as Beauty itself.


       After seeing her life through her eyes, I respected her more. I wished deep inside to have the passion she had, the love she represented, and the power she owned.

        « Life is a great teacher, a teacher with different ways of teaching. A teacher that punishes you, smiles back at you, gives you choices, and takes from you privileges » she once told me, when I asked her about her unconditional love to life. She added « life is not about being alive, life is Living ». She looked at me, a look full of words, and gave me an advice that no one could ever forget : « Do you want a friend ? A teacher ? Open a book, and start reading : that is your best friend, and your teacher. You will see life in a whole new way, you’ll change, and feel the charm of the simple goods in life. Read, but don’t forget that there is a life beyond books, live it. Always believe in yourself. You may think you can’t do it, but you will… Always believe in yourself.» After hearing those words, I smiled, and she smiled back.

           Suddenly, I had something to look up to, something to tell people about. Suddenly, I had a person to be a friend with, a place to belong to, and a life to wonder about. In that summer, I learned to live, to love, to forgive and to change. In that summer, I started seeing the beauty around me. Suddenly, I respected how my parents felt, and I was happy for them. More than that, I was happy. Suddenly, I started looking to the sky, and realising the pure beauty of it. I started smelling the aroma of roses. I started hearing the music in every corner.

          The garden of words, a place where you can be the center of your world. A place to share stories. A place to begin a new chapter of your life.


The whisper of the trees,

The song of roses,

The talk of strangers,

A garden full of secrets, full of stories, full of words.

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2 Comments Add yours

  1. carolahand says:

    This is such a lovely story, Kaoutar. Thank you for sharing your summer garden!

    1. Thank you for reading it 🙂 🙂 🙂

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