Not only was he compelled to send a
single flower but he always sent a bouquet of flowers. Nothing less would do
for him, in his world.
It had been a messy break up,
resulting in both of them not knowing how to communicate. Hurt feelings were
scattered everywhere like the petals of the dozens of roses he had sent, falling
down the sides of the vases like tears falling down the cheeks of their abandoned
love story. The tapestry their lives had woven, thread by thread, from living
together had unraveled as families, friends, and traditions took up sides or
disappeared completely. Landmines had been planted, waiting to explode upon the
slightest harsh word or angry provocation.
No matter, he continues to send his
flowers religiously every Valentine’s Day, every birthday and Mother’s Day year
after year after year. Strange how he
continued this ritual despite the fact that they had stopped living together
over thirteen years ago.
One could only guess why. Could it
be he still loved her? Or was it the only way he could bring himself to show he
was sorry. Then again, could this ritual be only self-serving, sending the
flowers to try to ease his suffocating guilt as he thought about all he had
done to cause the fissure between them.
A single flower, a bouquet of
many….he will never stop sending them, this symbol of love, sorrow, guilt,
regret, and remorse.
Ellen
Feb 2020
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