Wishing amidst the moonlight

The door of my small yet warm cottage creaks as I open it and make my way barefoot to the cliff a little further away. I take another step with the grass and dried leaves tickling my feet, the moonlight illuminating up my path, guiding me on. Mere steps away, my eyes land on two white chrysanthemums on the ground.

 

I bend to pick up one of the two little beauties, wondering if the cold autumn wind blew it my way at this time, just for me. I continue onward, reaching the cliff. I gently seat myself there and cast my gaze on the moon. Bathing in its soft glow and quiet beauty. Reminding me of a certain someone.

 

Someone, whom I’ve spent forty three years of my life with and yet wish to spend more. Wish to wake up every morning with him by my side, banter with him, tease him, get teased by him and so much more. Wishing for yet more time. I can’t get enough of him just like I cannot get enough of this imperfectly perfect moon above.

 

I felt wrinkled yet firm hands covering my eyes bringing a soft smile to my face. 

“Am I getting kidnapped?” I asked out loud.

“If yes, then I would have covered your mouth, you hopeless women.” he nags. I make a mock annoyed face as he gives me a you’re hopeless smile.

“Well… I’m old and wrinkly. Who would want to kidnap me anyway?” I say next pretending to be hurt. 

“Good. You don’t need to be beautiful for anyone but me anyway.” My seventy one year old husband mutters laying his head on my lap, getting comfortable.

“And you’ll always be beautiful for me” he continues as he does. I barely heard those words meant to be unheard. But I did hear them and they made me smile as brightly as the moon above.

 

“Why are you out here in the cold and barefoot? Winter’s coming.” He nags, pointing behind me where my sweater and slippers lay. He… he got them for me. I gratefully slip into them. It was starting to get a little too chilly.

 

I gently run my hand through his silvery white strands of hair reminding me once again we may not have much time left in this world.

“What are you thinking about wife?” He asks me making me smile at him.

“About when we first met.” He smiles too at that.

 

“A twenty two years old beautiful aspiring doctor visiting my family’s café every morning for breakfast and of course, for coffee. It was always a cappuccino for you. With extra sugar and a snack to complement it. With at least one other person tagging along and you never alone. You were my aunt’s most loyal customer.” He teased making me glare at him.

 

“I noticed you too by the way. A handsome, cold, quiet boy. Almost always with a book in hand, a mug of steaming coffee on the table, reading quietly at the corner of the cafe in your own world. You always felt so self sufficient. Like you needed and wanted no one and nothing of this world.”

 

“I hated that about you. I was kidnapped when I was young and it was a dreadful experience and my only coping mechanism was to surround myself with as many people as possible. I hated you but it was only later I found out why.”

 

“Because I was, how you wished to be. How you could’ve been if you hadn’t been kidnapped when you were young and alone.” I let out a hum in agreement.

“I kept looking at you afterwards when you weren’t looking. To…” I start again.

“Find something more to justify yourself for hating me?” he finished for me earning a glare. 

He looked up at me smirking. “But everything you saw, you fell more and more in love with me?” 

“You’re giving yourself way too much credit” I say grudgingly.

 

“Anyways, I started liking the very thing I hated about you. I started admiring you in secret. Wanting to get to know you a little more.” 

 

He raised an eyebrow at that. “This I didn’t know. I had many secret admirers in my youth sure. But it’s nice to know, my wife was one of them.” He says smug, taunting. And in response I shove him off my lap, with him laughing. 

 

“And then?” He asked.

“I came alone one day and not wanting to be alone worked up the courage and walked to your table. You looked at me, raised an eyebrow waiting and I do not know what it is you saw on my face that day but you pointed to the chair in front of you. I sat and started a one side conversation with you humming along.” He laughed again at that.

 

“You could tell I didn’t want to talk and yet you kept at it.”

“In the end you did shut me up, didn’t you? You tossed me your phone after opening a crossword puzzle app on it asking me to solve it quietly.”

 

“I did, didn’t I?”

“That’s how we spent most mornings after that. A puzzle or a book you chose for me. If I could drag someone with me, you would have your alone peaceful time. If not, then you were stuck with me. You noticed eventually that…”

“You hated being alone?” He asked me.

“Yes. Though then I brushed you off, saying I’m monophobic and wish to be surrounded by people to prevent myself from being alone. Still uncomfortable to tell you why”

 

“And I teased you didn’t I. For using medical terms outside the hospital. To torture poor souls?” I glared at him at that.

“You made me believe you were one of those poor souls who want nothing to do with medicine and their technicality.” My husband laughed heartily at that.

 

“I will never forget the look on your face when you saw me coming out the operation theatre. My one regret is not having my camera to capture it!”

“And what? Tease me for life? Imagine my utter shock when the cold brooding boy I barely manage to befriend, am secretly crushing on, usually dressed in casuals, walking up to me in blue scrubs, stethoscope around your neck, hands in your pockets, smirking at me.”

 

“Looking incredibly handsome? Making you fall for me all over again? Wishing I was yours to brag?” He taunted me. I pursed my lips to prevent a smile from leaking out.

“You made me break my compact mirror. I dropped it in shock because of you! All your fault.” I accuse him instead.

 

“Yes, yes all my fault.” he appeased me.

“But what I still don’t get is why you would get that compact to your postings in the hospital. And even if you did why was it out of your bag?” he asked pointedly

“My friend said there was something in my teeth.” I grit out utterly embarrassed. I hate losing in a war with words. Especially with him.

 

“There is that pissed off look. The same one you carried on you for a week, after you found out I was a post graduate student working in the same hospital you were studying at.” he said accusingly.

“But you appeased me anyway. It was years ago on this very day. Valentine’s Day.” I replied smiling softly at that memory. Because he did appease me.

 

By giving me a tour of his family’s café. Finally revealing the café is his and that his family renovated it just 2 years ago on his and his sister’s vision. The café I’ve come to love was in fact his dream café. The cozy light ambiance complemented by brown plush seating, the rusty smell of coffee and wood, making it so visually appealing and comfy.

 

The bookshelves lining the walls behind our usual spot, with him talking ever so passionately about his wonderful, knowledge filled treasures. Explaining which were for the customers, which were for him and finally a few romance novels in the mix for his sister and me.

 

Then he takes my hand in his and leads me out the café near the seatings outside and pointed towards the little greenery arrangement done and explained that too. About the roses, tulips, orchids, and many more. Placed in a particular arrangement which can be read only if you know the language of flowers.

 

I remember looking at him, for once not a cool suave boy I’ve slowly come to love, but as a respectable, dependable senior he is, as he says I’ll teach you the language of flowers and much more, but only if you forgive me. It was in that moment I realised I wanted more from him. More than a friend, more than a senior.

 

Without a word, I turned around and walked to a nearby bakery, bought a box of chocolates wrapped beautifully yet cutely, took a label and wrote, Be mine.

 

2 words, 6 letters describing aptly of what I wished from him then.

 

I walked back to his café, to find him lounging on the chairs outside looking annoyed, angry and terribly upset but even more than all of them he looked sad. And that made me smile, that I can already influence his mood to this extent. I walked up behind him and poked his arm breaking me train of thought.

 

He startled and turned his brooding, pissed of face to me, as I held a box of chocolates in front of his eyes and said,

 

‘Be my Valentine for a long long time.’

 

He looked surprised at that but what he didn’t realise then was that he’s already become too important to me. He helped me grow. Helped me love myself. 

 

Taught me how to enjoy time spent alone.

Taught me how to be comfortable with my own presence.

Taught me the beauty of peace, of silence, of tranquility but most importantly myself.

 

But also taught me the beauty of books, of words, of puzzles and so much more.

 

Silence greeted my ears for almost a few seconds though they felt like hours. Silence which made me unconsciously tighten by grip on the chocolates in trepidation when…

 

“Yes”

 

I look to his face to find a soft smile breaking his face making me completely forget what his brooding face even looked like. Mesmerising me completely.

 

All these years later, I still don’t know where my confidence came from at that moment but I’m so glad I did. I love this man in front of me. Even if he’s a little clumsy, even if he makes mistakes, even if he’s brooding half the time, even if he doesn’t completely fit into the the definition of success the world and society has given us.

 

I love this man I chose as my other half. I love this man with whom I’ve spent my life with.

And now… Now all I wish is I could’ve had more time. 

 

“Wife” he whispered. I looked down at him. He raises his hands to my cheeks to gently wipe away the stray tear that slipped down my cheeks. “What’s wrong?” He asked me.

 

I shake my head. “Nothing. Just remembering all our time together. All our silly and forgotten memories, our mist-filled memories” I tell him as I push him back down in my lap to continue stroking his hair.

 

I looked back up at the moon. It’s seems to be beckoning me to come. But still, all I wish for is more time with the man in my lap. In that moment, the first words my husband spoke to me came to mind, when I asked him to tell me something about the book he was reading.

 

All the forgotten and hazy memories which were important but lost over time become ever so clear when you’re near the end.

 

 

The next morning, the newspaper boy with a parrot perched on his shoulder, rang the bell of the cottage to be unanswered. A harsh autumn wind blew, taking his cap with it. He ran trying to get it back with his parrot in pursuit. The cap flew on to a spot where a white chrysanthemum lay on the ground. He picked both of them up, held it to his chest and looked onward to find an old couple.

 

A woman leaning against a tree clutching that white flower meaning goodbye and the man with his head on her lap and his hand enveloping hers, holding the flower as their wedding rings glisten against the morning rays.. 

 

He found the both of them, deadly cold but with a warm smile on their faces.