The Autumn Breeze

Shanika walked along the winding park path, the cool fall breeze tugging at her jacket. Leaves crunched beneath her boots, the vibrant reds and golds swirling around her like nature’s confetti. It should have been a perfect afternoon—peaceful and calm—but her mind was anything but.

Work deadlines, her stalled painting hobby, the argument with her sister last night—it all churned inside her like a restless storm. Shanika had tried everything to calm herself: deep breathing, journaling, even putting her phone on silent. Nothing helped.

She sighed and plopped onto a bench overlooking a pond. The water mirrored the sky’s golden hues, rippling gently as a pair of ducks glided by. Shanika pulled her scarf tighter around her neck, frustration bubbling inside her. Why can’t I just relax?

A soft voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Shanika looked up to see an older man with a scruffy gray beard standing nearby. He wore a thick knit sweater and carried a sketchpad under his arm.

“Yes,” Shanika replied cautiously, “but it’s hard to enjoy when your mind won’t stop racing.”

The man chuckled and nodded. “Ah, I know that feeling well. Used to get so worked up about things that didn’t even matter a week later.” He gestured to the pond. “This place helped me.”

Shanika arched an eyebrow. “A park helped you stop stressing?”

He smiled. “Not the park itself, but what it taught me.” The man sat on the bench beside her and opened his sketchpad, revealing a half-finished drawing of the pond. “I come here to sketch. Sometimes, the ducks ruin the water’s reflection. Other times, the wind blows my paper. Used to drive me mad. But one day, I realized the ducks and the wind are part of the scene. It’s messy, sure, but it’s also what makes it real.”

Shanika tilted her head, intrigued.

He glanced at her. “Whatever’s troubling you—it’s like the ducks or the wind. You don’t control it. You just work with it, let it flow. Life doesn’t have to be perfect to be beautiful.”

She considered his words, her gaze falling back to the pond. The ducks were causing ripples again, breaking the mirror-like surface into shimmering fragments. It wasn’t perfect, but it was mesmerizing in its own way.

Shanika exhaled, the tightness in her chest loosening. Maybe she didn’t need to fix everything at once. Maybe it was okay to let life unfold, imperfections and all.

“Thanks,” she said softly. “I think I needed to hear that.”

The man smiled and handed her a blank sheet of paper from his sketchpad. “Here. Try capturing the moment, ripples and all. It might surprise you.”

Shanika hesitated, then took the paper and started sketching the scene before her. Her lines were uneven, the proportions off, but she felt something shift within her as she drew.

The breeze picked up, scattering leaves across her lap. Instead of brushing them away, Shanika smiled and let them stay.