The Bench by the Lake

 "The Bench by the Lake"

There’s an old wooden bench by the lake near my childhood home. Weathered by time, its once-smooth surface is now rough with memories—scratches, initials, and faded scribbles left by passersby. To most people, it’s just a bench. To me, it’s where my story began.

I first sat there on a quiet autumn afternoon, overwhelmed by questions life didn’t seem ready to answer. I was caught between who I was and who I wanted to become. The lake was still. The trees whispered with the breeze. And for the first time, I listened—not just to the world, but to myself.

A little boy walked by, holding a red balloon. He waved at me, smiling without reason, and skipped ahead. That simple moment taught me something I never read in any book: life is made of small, beautiful things. Moments that don’t ask for permission to happen. They just do.

Since then, I’ve gone back to that bench many times—when I was happy, when I was lost, when I needed to remember who I am. Each visit left me with a new piece of myself. And that’s what I hope this blog becomes for you: a quiet bench by the lake. A place to pause, reflect, smile, and grow.

Welcome to the journey.