flickr photo credits: (1) Serenae (2) Serenae (3) bionicteaching (4) bionicteaching (5) shareski
Five Card Story: Love
a Five Card Flickr story by bendicio g. created Aug 23 2023, 08:29:44 am. Create a new one!
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Love
Defining the word “love” is much harder than I thought it’d be. Let’s see… to a lot of people, it’s simply used to describe a feeling of deep or intense affection.
Take me, for example. I love plenty of things. I love to watch the sunset. I love to eat at sushi restaurants. I really love animals, mostly cats. I especially love art, it’s my passion. I would’ve taken it up as a career, if it wasn’t for what I was about to do.
But, out of everything in the world, the one thing I love most is my wife. There’s nothing I don’t love about her. She’s the sweetest, kindest person I’ve ever known. Her smile brightens up any room. She goes out of her way to make other people feel better.
To some, love cannot be defined. It cannot be put into words. It can only be expressed. Through little actions. Or through grand gestures. This is my view of love, too.
My wife always appreciates when I draw her. The walls of our house overflow with portraits of her. She is my muse. She is the light of my life. She is my entire universe.
I think most of the things I love in life are things that she loves too. We both love watching the sunset together, I always make sure to pick flowers for her. We love going on dates together at sushi restaurants, I make sure she never pays the bill. Her favorite animals are cats. She loves white cats. I did my best to buy one for her, but she kept telling me that she wasn’t ready for that kind of responsibility.
As I’m walking down the street, I see a white cat strolling past the sidewalk. I’m immediately reminded of my wife.
I followed the cat for much longer than I want to admit. I’d been following it for so long, that the sun had started setting. Unfortunately, I lost track of it at the cemetery.
I begin making my way back home. My wife stands underneath a streetlight. The tendrils of her hair are illuminated under its warm glow. I approach her, tears forming from my eyes. She places a hand on my cheek and smiles up at me.
“You need to let me go.”
Her gentle voice echoed in my head. The streetlight flickered. And my wife flickered back.
My wife always said I was stubborn. I guess that makes sense, considering how I refused to ever let her pay restaurant checks. How hard I tried to make every drawing of her as perfect as possible, just like her. How hard I tried to get her to raise a cat with me. How hard I tried to get her to raise a family with me.
I’m not going to let her go. I’m going to join her.
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