She longs for those little gestures that used to make her
days, made her feel wanted, made her feel loved, made her feel alive. Had she
not vowed, as a teenager, that she would never let this happen to her life? Wasn't she determined never to get bored of her marriage?
She forgot how it felt to have butterflies in her stomach.
She forgot how it felt to snuggle close to him on cold winter nights. She
forgot the fun of pillow fights.
How many days has it been since they spoke of something
other than news during breakfast?
How many years has it been since they had called each other
during work for something other than to remind each other of an unfinished
chore?
How many evenings has it been since they sat together for
something other than to watch the television?
How many nights has it been since they actually ‘shared’ a
bed?
The sharp ringing of her phone snaps her out of her sad
reverie. It is him calling.
But surprisingly, it is not his voice. She hears an anxious voice of a stranger. He is
sympathetic and tries to break the news about the fateful accident as gently as
possible. As he goes on rambling about how the accident happened, she blanks
out, the phone falls off her sweaty palms, and she collapses on the ground.
How could this have happened? How could he be gone? What
would happen to her now? Her mind becomes a mirage of confused feelings, coming
and going.
Who would give her news briefs during breakfast in the
morning?
Who would call her during work and remind her of an
unfinished chore?
Who would she watch the television with, during evenings?
Who would she find beside her, when she wakes up in the
middle of the night?
Oh, what would she not give up to have him back in her life!
She didn't want any butterflies in her stomach or the silly pillow fights. She
just wants him back!
She is oblivious to her phone that is still ringing and the
impatient knocking on the door. She loses track of time and doesn't even know
how long she sat there, sobbing and regretting. Suddenly, she sees an apparition, his
apparition, in front of her.
Is it a dream!?
She stands up and rushes into his arms. His palms smooth her
hair, comfortingly till she comes back to her senses.
He is not an apparition, she realizes as sense dawns upon her. He is alive! Very much alive! He is
here, in flesh and blood!
But the phone call…? She is very confused! She is blabbering incoherently.
‘Honey! Someone stole my phone in the afternoon,’ he explains and
tears of relief stream down her eyes. They are lost for words and fall asleep
in each others arms.
The next morning…
As usual, the persistent alarm wakes them up. They hurry
through their chores and before long; they are at the breakfast table.
As she listens to her husband’s news briefing, a line that
she had read in a book years ago strikes her:
“Early love is filled with attraction. It is like a flower of a plant. It is beautiful, but it is delicate and fragile.
The love that comes later on is filled with responsibility. It is like the root of a plant. You may not be able to see it
and it is not beautiful like the flower. But, do not forget that it supports and nourishes your entire life!”
