Saturday, January 7, 2012

Kiss from a Rose

She decided to take a walk on the grass in the lawn of her house. It was a cold winter day, and she had her warm coat on. Yet she was still shivering. However somehow she wanted to stay in the garden instead of going back in the empty house. She sat and observed the plants around her. Due to the harsh weather, most of the plants had withered away. Except for a beautiful red rose in full glory, dancing in the gentle breeze as if to get her attention.

The young girl went to marvel the flower from up close. What a vibrant red color it was, and how lovely it smelt. It stood out in the otherwise plain garden.

‘How beautiful you are,’ the girl complimented.

‘Thank you my dear,’ the rose smiled.

The young girl did not appear alarmed. It was the first time she had stumbled upon a talking plant but it just seemed right and meant to be.

‘How does it feel to be a rose?’

‘It feels nice. I like to dance in the wind, and eat the soil. Yet due to the harsh weather, I miss having company,’ the rose replied.

‘Is that why you are talking to me?’ the girl asked.

‘I talk to people all the time. All of us plants do. Few decide to listen to us,’ the rose said.

‘I did not decide to listen or not listen,’ the girl mumbled confused, ‘I just heard.’

‘I am glad you heard,’ the rose said simply, not explaining further.

The girl was hardly 8 years old. Some questions arose in her mind out of curiosity, but she was sad. She dismissed them and went on to talk to the rose.

‘I am lonely too,’ the young girl confessed sadly.

‘Why is that?’ the rose asked.

The girl plopped down on the grass next to the rose, sat cross legged and rested her face in the palms of her hands, pondering sadly.

‘We just moved to a new country, and I do not understand the language the rest of the people speak,’ the girl explained.

‘So what are you going to do about it?’ the rose questioned.

‘My parents have hired a governess who will tutor me the new language so I can join school in a few months,’ the girl replied.

‘Then it is only a matter of a few months,’ the rose reassured, ‘after that you will not be lonely anymore.’

‘I hope so,’ the young girls’ eyes became hopeful, ‘I hope so. The kids I have met so far seem very different from the kids back in my country. But yes I hope soon everything will be back to normal.’

‘Till then we can become friends and cure our loneliness,’ the rose beamed.

The girl cheered up. Every day the girl would go sit in the garden and the rose and she would talk. The rose seemed to understand her completely. They became the best of friends. The season changed, and slowly the rose became old and started withering. The girl tried to help but nature had its course. And as if too soon, the rose quietly died.

The young girl went to sit in the garden and stare at the dead rose. Tears quietly streaming down her cheeks, she realized that she had lost the only true friend who had ever understood her properly. She had never told the rose how important it had been in her life. And now it was simply too late.

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