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Purple Gardenia’s

Two years ago, I married the most amazing woman. In my eyes, her perfection was flawless, gorgeous and breathtaking. My favorite thing about her was her laughter. It was full of passion and innocently natural. She loved me for me and I loved her unconditionally. I didn’t have much money, but she loved me just the same. With no car and no cash, we embraced the simplicity of life. We were travelers and hiked on the weekends to enjoy the delights of mother nature and her awe-inspiring beauty. We had a tradition every sunday where we enjoyed the entire day at “our spot”. A place at the top of a hill overlooking a field with the mountains in the distance. If the day was calm, you could hear the creek flowing gently down below. This was our spot, where we relaxed and enjoyed each others presence every sunday for 5 wonderful years.

Today, we don’t live together anymore but every sunday, I still go out to visit her at our spot. I pack a small bag filled with food, a blanket, and a flashlight. At the break of dawn, I begin my journey. Still, with no car, I travel by foot, walking through the town as she and I had before. I get to the flower shop where I go in to buy her some flowers. I remember that her favorite color is purple. That and the first day I met her, I gave her a gardenia which she absolutely loved, at least that’s what she told me. She never did complain much.

I continue to walk until I get to the countryside. I’m almost there. I walk by a small park filled with the laughter of children. The kids scream and wave hello. I wave back and laugh. Oh, how I wish we both would’ve had a baby of our own. I blamed myself for the miscarriages. She knew, though, that she couldn’t have a child and had me feeling guilty without telling me the truth before she left. As I keep walking and walking and my path begins to incline. I’m at the bottom of the hill and I can hear the creek now so I know I’m almost there. I steadily move faster and faster up to my destination excited to spend the day at our spot.

I finally reach the top but no one is here. I look all around. I am alone. Out of breath, I sit down and rest, take off my shoes and stare at the grass blades by my feet. I can faintly hear the children now. I watch the birds fly over head and sing as the wind blows gently in the air. Crickets chirp and cicadas rattle. Leaves rustle as the rodents make their way around. I lay down and look up into the light blue sky. The clouds have my full attention and I watch them float across, one by one, each unique and special in their own way. My mind wanders and after a while, I pull out a single purple gardenia from the bouquet and examine it with interest when suddenly, I feel a nudge by my side. She’s sitting beside me. Our eyes lock and her smile embraces me with warmth and love. She takes the flower. I place my hand on her face and softly swipe my thumb across her brow. I guide my fingers slowly down her cheek and move them down to caress her luscious lower lip. God, how I’ve missed her so much. For hours I hold her and neither of us say a word. It is quiet. It is peaceful. I am where I want to be forever.

Unfortunately, I wake up…
It was only a dream and I am still alone. I shed a tear but I bring my hands over my eyes and shut them tight. Please, let me keep the memory! The sky is purple and the clouds are rolling heavy now. I watch as the sun slowly disappears behind the mountains in the distance. It’s a long way back home so I pick up the bouquet and arrange it with care. I’ll be back next sunday at our spot but before I head out for the night, I lay the purple gardenia’s gently across my wife’s grave.

“Two Hearts, two minds, in time did find one love, one aim two paths the same. Hold fast… and love will last.” – Matt Buttram

~~Written by John Matar~~


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A Philosphical Journey ©copyright 2011-2012

© John Matar and 'A Philosophical Journey', 2011-2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to John Matar and 'A Philosophical Journey' with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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