Her absence…

“Her name hints upon the strength of a warrior, a guardian. I know she is. It is a beautiful name, and magical, as if it craves itself onto my heart”. Upon finishing that sentence, the backyard where they were sitting in the mid-autumn night fall back into silence, a sweet length of quietness.

“Is that so?” The response was swift and brisk.

“It’s a pity you have not met her. You would have liked her too, I’m sure of it.” A gentle breeze was rushing through the valley, brushing against the small country side house on the east. It was refreshing to just sit there and look out into the clear dark skies. I suppose I could count the stars, he thinks.

“What won’t I give to have her here? Just sitting around, no need for talk as I know what she thinks as she would to mine.” He took up the orchid petal that was on the floor, hold it close to his face and took a deep breath, as if trying to take in as much fragrance as the petal could offer.

Silence was the response.

“Love’s just like these little flowers, don’t you think? At first sight it’s looks all the same, just a common flower. But one day you look out into your garden, all that catches you eye is this one flower. The one that stood out from the rest. Then you realise, you couldn’t have love it more than anything else.”

It was all quiet except the rushing gust.

“Soon you feel attached to it. You care for it, longing to spend time with it. You take pride in its growth.” He cracked a smile at the edge of his lips, which became a soft laughter. “But death awaits after its peak, in beauty and stature. Before you know it, life is at the end.”

Another long pause followed, but he broke the silence for the first time. “But love, in all similarity to it, is no flower. I would be at peace to think that love endures more than just life. She lives again, whenever you see this plant, not because it reminds you of her, but that she still lives in you.”

“You’re uncharacteristically talkative this time. It’s rather unlike you.”

“So do you.”

He smiled in response to that witty reply. As the season died into a colder night, they sat quietly once more, was quiet again, each to his own thought.