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 Posted: Tue Nov 24, 2009 7:23 pm
As I sat at the kitchen table, the dawn breaking through the horizon and warming my chilled skin, I rested my book on my lap and gazed upon the small, thin vase holding a single red rose. The rose’s voluptuous bloom had begun drooping to the side and the edges of its petals had darkened as if charred. Even though this majesty was dying, fading, it was graceful and gorgeous with its flowing petals and prominent thorns. After a few moments, I was shocked out of my trance with a shiver that ran down my spine and traveled through my limbs, giving me goosebumps. I stood up and walked to the wall thermostat and turned up the heat. Turning around to return to the table, I noticed that a single petal had fallen.
I sat back in my chair and picked up the petal, turning it in my hand and rubbing the smooth, silky material between my fingers. I ran my palm across the ruffled edge of the petal, tickling my skin. The wilted piece of nature’s beauty was a duller version of the magnificence from a week earlier when I had picked it from my garden. Time had worn down the fragile flower and now it was falling apart.
The beauty and innocence of the rose was short-lived and temporal. I thought to myself about the worth of the rose’s life compared to the worth of mine. A rose, a gesture of love, appreciation, and beauty, can brighten any smile, lighten any mood. What could I do? Humans make mistakes. They cry. They get angry. They give life. But they also kill. All a rose can do is stand proud and smile toward the sky and protect its delicate form with thorns upon its body.
I pulled the rose from its container and watched the water drip from the stem onto the clear glass surface of the table. Holding the rose in one hand, I began plucking off the petals with the other, one by one fluttering to the glass. I gathered the petals into a pile and carried them to the kitchen counter where I pulled out a bowl from a cabinet below and placed on the counter with a dull clunk. The bowl, already filled with dark crimson, wrinkled rose petals, overflowed when I placed my newest pile on top.
Walking to the bathroom with my collection, I felt a cool draft breezing through my bedroom window. I couldn’t remember if I ever opened it but I closed it quickly without question after setting the bowl on my bed. When I returned, the bowl had tipped and spilled the petals onto the silky comforter, the gleam from the bed offsetting the blood red of the petals.
My heart slowly ached with a familiar, contented loneliness. I envied the petals and their beautiful company of each other. I needed friends, and I would make these beautiful, dying fragments of life my friends.
I walked to the bathroom with the bowl of petals. Plugging the drain, filling the tub with hot water, and drizzling the water with soap, I watched steam and smell of aromas rise, my senses heightening with them. I pulled the tie around my waist and allowed my robe to slip off my shoulders, over my waist, past my hips, and collapse in a mound at my feet. Holding the bowl in one arm, I meticulously sprinkled the petals around the tub, scattering them to all corners of the steaming bath. I dipped a foot toe-first into the water, grimacing slightly from its burning grasp. Slowly immersing myself in the womb-like sanctuary, I grinned from the sight of petals floating softly like miniature boats. Closing my eyes and releasing my breath as well as my thoughts, I realized how fortunate I was to live another day.
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Others have permission to post feedback here. :3
This was originally written for an essay assignment. But I got sick of writing essays, and my teacher loves me so she let me write this instead. xD
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Posted: Wed Nov 25, 2009 2:21 pm
Makes you think. I like it..it's mournfully beautiful. Keep up the fantastic work, woman. xD
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Posted: Wed Nov 25, 2009 7:14 pm
l Midnight Scar l Makes you think. I like it..it's mournfully beautiful. Keep up the fantastic work, woman. xD Haha, I like that description. xD Thanks! :3
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