Wholeheartedly

I have loved you and you have not known it

, by FNI

This. This was the kind of weather you were waiting for. The light pitter-patter of the rain on the window. Soft. Reassuring; unlike so many other things in life. You have the window just a tad bit open, just enough for you to smell the petrichor emanating from the modest garden right outside your window, but not enough for any of the raindrops to pay a visit inside.

The record player in the corner of the room is playing lazy tunes. Soothing. While the flame from the candle sways and dances. Flowing freely and in sync with the nature of the tune. You close your eyes. Inhale. Geraniums. Roses. Flooding your nostrils.

Immediately, you smile. Behind your closed eyelids, you see that face that you adore so dearly. The smile that makes you swell with joy every time you see it. The softness of the hand. You remember when those hands brought you your first flowers. Introduced you to the beauty that each flower beheld. Geraniums. True friendship. For it is true, theirs is the truest friendship you can ever hope to have and one that you can count on for eternity.

The pattering still goes on. Somehow, in that cold weather, you feel so warm. Warm with all these thoughts and that face in your mind. Warm as though you could feel their hug. Their reassuring arms wrapped around you, while they calmly whisper in your ear. I’m here for you always. Always.

You wish for anything right then, with the smell of geraniums and roses filling the room, you wish for anything. For that face to be right by your side. Those hazel eyes staring right into yours. That smile, smiling right back at you.

Mother. You whisper. Mother. I wish you were here.

You smile, with the smell of geraniums and roses filling the room. You smile. As you feel a tear escape from behind closed eyelids. You smile. As the candle kept swaying and dancing to the lazy tune. As the petrichor slowly begins to fade away, overcome by the smell of geraniums. And roses. This was the kind of weather you were waiting for. This.

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, by FNI

poetry

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, by FNI

Stories

Eternal

I hesitantly opened the gates. Every step I took was heavy and I could feel the burden. When was the last time I came here? About five years ago, I would think. The grass was tall and the garden had not been looked after for quite some time now, obviously. To my left, I saw what used to be the dahlia garden my wife, Dahlia, looked after. Dahlias were her favorite. I could feel the tug on my heart looking at what was left of it. I looked up at the bungalow. Green algae and moss had begun to grow on the walls. The house had definitely seen better days. Vines had crept up along the walls of the house. This was my home a long time ago. My home sweet home.

Then, suddenly, right before my eyes, the flowers started to bloom, and the leaves suddenly turned greener. Everything around me started to change. The grass somehow shrunk and became shorter. The vines along the sides of the house crept back down and the green algae and moss began to disappear. I was shocked. I thought my old eyes were playing tricks on me. I rubbed my eyes with my knuckles and even wiped my glasses with my shirt, but no, my eyes were not playing tricks on me. What I saw was real. Maybe I took the wrong medicine when I woke up this morning.

Suddenly, I heard someone call my name. “Rahman!” I searched and squinted my eyes to see who was calling my name. “Man!” There it was again. Not many called me by that name. Only my family and close friends dared to call me by that name. And that voice. That beautiful voice. I recognized that voice. I have not heard that voice in a long time, of that I was sure. I still could not find who was calling me. There, by the dahlia garden, someone was waving at me. I could not see who it was. I squinted against the sunlight. When my eyes adjusted, I saw that it was a young woman. She was wearing a scarf and a pair of sunglasses. She was also wearing a pair of gardening gloves. My heart was instantly caught, and I froze, I recognised her in an instant.

My heart started beating faster. I knew her. I more than knew her. I could not believe my eyes. I almost ran to her, but my old, brittle legs would not let me. I walked as fast as I could towards her. It was my Dahlia, but a younger version, maybe of when she was in her late 20s. My mind was already working like clockwork trying to figure out what was going on. She was beautiful, just like the flower. Her namesake was of the dahlia flower. It was her mother’s favorite flower and eventually, became her favorite too. When I got to her though, suddenly she disappeared. I still could not figure it out.

Perplexed, I moved on and went up the steps leading into the house. The minute I opened the doors, everything looked just as it did the last time I was there five years ago. It was all starting to confuse me. At that point, I got to the conclusion that I took the wrong medication that morning and my mind was playing tricks on me. I kept walking down the hall and on the walls were pictures of my family and I. I reached out and touched the pictures. Weird, they were all real to the touch. I could actually feel the frame underneath my fingers. I turned to the right towards the living room.

Like hallucinations, figures started to form in the living room. I knew all those people. They were my children, but they were little kids. They were playing around and laughing. There was a piano at the corner of the room, and Dahlia was sitting at the piano bench. She looked radiant, although here, she looked slightly older than before but not more than a few years. She looked up when I entered the doorway and smiled at me. There were crinkles at her eyes when she smiled. I forgot that small detail about her.

“Rahman,” she said, smiling, “Come and sit, I’ll play you your favorite song.” She was always so soft spoken.

As though hypnotised, I went into the room and sat on the couch. My eyes never left her face for even a second, I could not bear to look away from her ever again. Satisfied at seeing me sit, she began playing. Indeed, it was my favorite song. I used to ask her to play it for me all the time, a long time ago. The kids stopped playing and crowded near the piano. Even they used to love it when their mother started playing. The way she played was definitely hypnotising. Then suddenly, it all faded and I found myself standing in the middle of an empty room. The music was still in my ears.

I went out of the room and walked towards the kitchen. Before I even pushed the doors open, I could hear laughter. I heard her familiar laugh. I reached towards the doors but I was afraid to open it. What if I see the same thing I saw earlier. This was all beginning to be more than confusing. I am an old man. Too much shock can bring no good to an old man’s heart. However, it was not I who made the decision.

“Rahman! Dinner is ready, I cooked your favorite. I know you are behind those doors. Come in, why don’t you?” Dahlia’s comforting voice called out.

Listening to her voice was enough to convince me to do anything. I pushed open the doors and saw them sitting by the dinner table. Only my daughter and Dahlia were there. Dahlia here was older, in her mid-40s. She smiled at the sight of me. Before I could even sit, everything disappeared just like it did before. My frown was deepening. This was all starting to not make any sense. Was I dreaming? I went up the stairs towards the bedroom. I had a bad feeling about this. Something was nagging at me to not open the doors to the bedroom. But the more it told me not to, the more I wanted to. Slowly, I opened the door. The door creaked of old age, just as my bones sometimes did.

I was right, what I saw was something I did not prepare for. Right there, on the bed, was Dahlia. She looked really old now, and I remember exactly when this was. She smiled at me when I came in. She looked very tired but there was still life in her eyes. She raised her arm in an attempt to reach for me. But her old arms would not let her go far. Not even halfway through, she let her arm fall. The weight was too much for her to support all by herself.

“Rahman,” she said, patting the spot beside her. Like an obedient dog called by his master, I went to her side and sat on the chair beside her bed. Her hand was held open for me to hold. I hesitated, I was not sure if it would disappear just like all the other memories before. Dahlia just looked at me expectantly. Slowly, I first touched her hand testily, it was real. I could feel her soft, crinkly skin. I held in my hand, firmly, not sure whether I wanted to let it go now.

She smiled at me. “Rahman, remember when we were young and we used to love releasing balloons with messages written on it into the sky?”

I just nodded. I did not know what to say. If it was possible, whatever this was that I was going through, I wanted it to stop at that instant. I knew what was going to happen and I did not want to go through it again. Going through it the first time was heartbreaking enough. I do not think that I could handle it for the second time.

“I know you are afraid. I am, too. But we knew that this would happen sooner or later. And not long after that, you will be with me as well. It is not as if we are going to be apart for long. Give it a couple of years.” She smiled and there were tears starting to pool in her eyes.

“Dahlia,” was all I managed to croak. My throat suddenly felt dry and tears of my own were rolling down my cheeks. I knew very well what was going to happen. This particular moment had play backed in my head numerous times.

“Rahman, if you miss me or when you are starting to forget all those memories of us together, get a balloon and write whatever message you want to tell me on it. Then, release it up into the sky. If God wills it, I will get that message from you. That is how you can remember me, my dear Rahman.”

That was the last that she ever spoke. She closed her eyes, tired from all the talking. It took so much of her energy to say even the littlest things. And then, it all disappeared right before my eyes. I was in an empty room again, sitting on the floor. It was all still so real and vivid. The memories seemed so real when I entered this house.

Finally, it made sense. I had never returned to this house after Dahlia’s death all those years ago. It pained me to enter the house and to see everything that I built and had throughout my life with her. Just because of her death in this very house, I forgot to remember all the other wonderful memories I had with her. In fact, it was all those memories that came first, before it led to her death. Something has been urging me to come here and after five years I finally had the courage to do so. I was blinded by my stubbornness to accept her death that I threw out all my memories of her out the window. I sat there in the middle of the room and recited a prayer for her as I always did. I got up as my back was starting to ache badly from sitting down on the floor for too long.

I smiled as I exited the house as everywhere I looked, memories kept flooding through my mind. I stood in front of the house for the last time. Images and memories were playing vividly as though being played through a video camera. For the final time, I turned my back on the house and out the gates towards the car where my daughter was waiting for me. However, I did not leave alone, as with me, I took all my memories that I had in the house that I failed to remember because of my denial. Dahlia will forever remain with me, in my mind, and in my heart.

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, by FNI

Wholeheartedly

Still You

I have loved you and you have not known it

Petrichor

Eternal

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