MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “prose”

Enclosed in rose petals

©MCD

They are the ones that give colour to the flower itself. The ones you anxiously wait to grow, to bloom, to open up and reveal the others hidden inside. In a rose, it’s the petals that give it its essence.

The petals, just like the rose itself, are full of symbolisms. They represent the destination at the end of a long journey. They are what makes the climb up from the thorny stem worth the pain of it. They are what constitute the beauty of an otherwise ‘aggressive’ flower. For if you can’t grasp the thorns, you are not worthy of the flower. The petals are what accentuate the value.

Like William Carlos Williams wrote, “the rose is obsolete” for “it is at the edge of the petal that love waits”.

Flowers are symbols of love, of adoration, of caring. But they are soon doomed to wither, their petals opening up and eventually falling off. But even loose petals are symbols of love, of passion, of romance. They are the ones that hold the memories of the initial rose. Of the moment in which it was delivered. Of the emotions that overwhelmed the giver and the receiver, and of the instants that ensued.

It is not accidental that the best decoration potpourri usually include flower petals. Because they enclose everything the flower once was and everything it still remains. It reminds us that no matter how closed up we are, we can always bloom, let others past our thorns, and persist, maintaining our beauty unaffected by time.

The coincidental start

Blue umbrella rainIt was raining on that Tuesday morning. But as she prepared to go out, she remembered that her umbrella had been broken by the previous day’s whirling storm. So she had to run to the little store around the corner which she was certain sold umbrellas, because she had her eye set on one particular one every time she passed by – it was large, blue with white polka dots and a curving gold ornate handle. That was the one she was going to buy.

She splattered out into the rain, and ran to the store as fast as she could, trying not to fall head first into any puddle on her way. As she reached for the door handle, raising her right foot ready to step in, the door swung open and she was inadvertently pulled in. A tall gentleman expressed his sincere apologies and rushed out. He had obviously just brought a long black umbrella, which he now put into use. She hadn’t managed to fully retain the features of his face, though. She was still a bit shocked by her own entrance into the shop. What she hadn’t noticed, however, was that her long blue scarf had swished across the nostrils of the man leaving the store. It had the perfume of wild lilies.

As she got ready to pay for the merchandise she happily purchased, she saw that the little old man running the store was reading a newspaper. He had left the page open at the career vacancies section and her eyes fell onto a bold, black-framed ad calling for an external associate for a large tech company. She asked the old man if she could take the ad, and he gladly ripped out the page and gave it to her. On the back of that page was an entire feature on how technology is ruining the life of small children. Yet, technology was the very reason she didn’t read the paper anymore – news was faster and more current online.

She ran back home to send her CV and details for the position. She knew it was silly, but she spent the next couple of hours waiting.

In the meantime, the rain stopped.

But the minute she decided to finally go to the supermarket, her phone rang. It was the tech company, inviting her for an interview the next day. They were in haste to fill the position, as it was an urgent contract.

It was not raining the next day, but she took the umbrella with her anyway. She had to ask for directions twice before finding the building’s location, and realized she was running circles around it once she finally got to the door. She was escorted to the manager’s office. When his secretary opened his door to usher her in, she saw the surprise taking over his face. He was stirred by the smell of wild lilies that infiltrated his office. A smile found its way onto his otherwise strict appearance and she felt relieved. But she had not recognized the stranger from the umbrella store. Her glance fell instead onto his computer screen. He was reading an article that asked, “Is there such a thing as a coincidence? Or is it a carefully devised cosmic plan that has some hidden purpose we don’t understand? Do things really happen for a reason? Or are we the ones who give reason to the things that happen?

Interesting question, she thought, and smiled as she recognized his black umbrella from the previous day, standing tall by his desk. She looked up and saw him gazing at her, mesmerized by the turn of events. “Well this is an interesting start,” he laughed.

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