Morning Chrysanthemum

 A fine line still divides the darkness and light. And under that light sprung the fresh new sight of another day beginning to be awakened. My bags sit, packed and ready to go, at the back of the car. If she finds this out, she’ll be shocked for certain. But there’s nothing anyone could do about it now.

They say that this happens to couples like us, where conflict seemed to have never run out. Everything seemed unpardonable without argument, and so hurtful words were thrown at each other and explanations were demanded, regardless whether they would be accepted or not. That’s how it turned out to be for the both of us. And as often as the conflicts occur are the opportunities to forgive. But I find it hard to do that sometimes, all the less to forgive and forget. Well, I suppose no matter how great an amount of forgetting one does to ignore the past offenses, whether they were intended to offend or not, I don’t believe anyone could really forget anything that needed forgiving.

But still, I suppose there is still something stronger that tied us beyond our divergences, which kept it going on…

I brushed through her things for one more time: her clothes hanging on the closet- with each one carrying their own stories I still vividly remember, the paraphernalia that strewn the drawer top beside the mirror, and the perfume...yes, the faint smell of her perfume. I tried to pry it from the drawer—then, I rebuked, “What on earth are you doing?”

She always shouted me that whenever she catches me snooping on her perfume, acting as if I were planning to use it to do some malicious plot. She makes them herself, and she was so renowned for it; perhaps that’s the paranoia that comes with a notable success. And after that pointed remark, it was either a slap or a kiss, both of which I haven’t gotten anymore… and I would never get.

Nevertheless, the scent continued to dance in my nostrils, teasing me to smile as a baby hushes upon hearing a familiar lullaby.

It’s time to go, I thought, prompting me to leave the bedroom for the last trip to the lush, enormous backyard where the great cypresses stood. That morning was the first time I found the majestic giants so gloomy to look at. So did the orchids and the chrysanthemums and the anthuriums which she has always tended to so lovingly. I plucked out a few- the prettiest of her flamingo lilies. And then a few of the brightly-colored mums.

From there, one deep, long breath was enough to fill me in with all the things I would have to leave behind… Everything reminded me of her- how I hated her ranting, how I despised her nagging, how I relished on the times it was her who was the first between us to set pride aside and apologize… and above all those, how I loved her. Still.

But it’s high time for me to leave. There’s nothing left for me here now.

The soft breeze touched my lips as if it kissed me lightly, baring a weak hint of its saying goodbye. Then, after relishing the cool cuffing of the winds, I opened my eyes and started approaching her.

It would be another emotionless event for her. But right before I started taking my first few steps, teardrops started to trickle. But like what I said, there’s nothing anyone could do about it now.

I knelt and reached out, carefully and dotingly spelling the outline of her name etched in cold stone, something I doubt I could ever do again for a long time. 

And there, I lay the flowers, each sealed with a kiss. 

I simply smiled, remembering how she used to smile at me whenever I gave her those. From there, all the pain caused from our unnecessary arguments and disagreements would simply melt.

And now that everything is fading…

I was convinced of the truth that if you love someone, you do not turn and say that you hate the person that you loved. You continue to love them even if it means that they are going without you... because you loved them.

All that I could say to her then were these words, with which I left, locked the gates and slowly drifted away…

“I love you… and that’s all I know.”

“There’s nothing on this earth that could ever be too beautiful or too wonderful without disaster befalling it. Love is a sorrowful path to tread on…still we only go on because we are looking for the beauty beyond the disaster. I make sure I know enough to write about it.”

Kevin Soriano

1st of November, 2009 

Sacred Sonnet

Unending Reminiscence- An Anthology of Short Stories (Book I) © 2009

Reviews

[Elvina CZq]

Hey there KB, wow, sorry for taking so long to read and review your writing that you sent me a read request. Haha.

Well, first, your story is just beautifully sad. Not sorrowful. Not even a bit in my book. This is just sad but filled with a little air of hope. As I read it, I could catch every little picture of every little move in the story, and the memories part were just heart-breaking yet sweetly memorable. I can feel how this male character is feeling. You just made the story flows well and allows readers to feel it.

Nicely written for your first short story attempt. Keep on writing! :) and thank you for sharing with me :)

[Rima]

Well written and it flows beautifully
I like the sweet, romantic feeling in the story
Great job and keep on writing

[Michael X]

this captures and air of romance and innocence in ways, and the heart can't help but feel the total depth and gentle expression that allows your words to float, clouds of thought. i love this because it reminds me of chapters in my own life. excellent form, layout and flow, thanks for sharing!

[K.B. Soriano]

First short story I wrote in months. Quite happy I finally managed to overcome the block and made this one.
I'll be honored to have YOUR comments. :)

By the way, some of my recent short stories are in http://lumumbabibbo.multiply.com. :)