Shades of Endearment

"I do not wish to drag this beautiful relationship within the confines of an accepted social matrix, this would be hard. Putting a label on it and bring this to become part of the social matrix even harder. I may not remain the ‘person’ you have come to love so dearly. These are ‘shades of endearment’; we can’t always attach a label to them. Each and every affectionate encounter in one’s life plays a part just like a bouquet, every strand, every petal, every leave, even dead ones. "Some moments are like butterflies, they come along with their richness, their colour and beauty. They dazzle us. If we try to hold on to them, capture them, own them, they get tarnished, and you may not like what you have collected over a period of time." Love and lust have a very thin dividing line, and for the onlookers it is often blurred. In fact, an iron wall separates them. A soul- destroying sadness pervaded the whole place, where hope is gasping for breath; avoiding the gaze of city dwellers and hiding in shame. The evening rush hour was underway, cars passing in both directions splashing rainwater on the sides. Their wipers making ‘whooshing noises’, their occupants utterly oblivious of the plight of their fellow citizens just yards away from them. The ‘unfortunate ones’ who just could not keep pace with them, left behind in the mad rush of life’s progress; the collateral damage of our obsession with materialism He opened the big door of ICU and Emma had her first glimpse of what is it like to fight for your life. There was a vast bay with glistening floor with several beds, perhaps eight. There was medical apparatus, pipes monitors, more wires attachments and pipes. Among this paraphernalia of medical technology and personnel, actual humans were lying in various slumped positions connected to multiple pipes, wires, attachments and monitors. A nurse stepped forward and took Emma’s hand and took her to the last bay. This was Damien, second lieutenant in Royal Scots Dragon Guards, was here in ICU attached to modern medical technology and apparatus and fighting another battle. She wiped her tears again. There was a stunned silence in the compound as if a tragedy has just happened, and they can see it by turning their heads. Emma and Damien in a paradoxical way brought this catharsis, this closure for her. The glint in her eyes when offering her prayers on the grave, dried up tears on her cheeks, weak smile of gratitude and small medallion she gave Damien were her final rites, and she could now lay her son’s memory to rest. Damien saw the awkwardness of this comparison; the woman lost her son, and he lost his lower leg as he gradually rolled his trouser down with his head bowed... That night they slept soundly, waking up and then drifting again to most peaceful sleep imaginable, clinging to each other holding softly, holding tightly, like a drowning man hold on to a passing raft. Like barefoot weary travellers crossing deserts and valleys of thorns for days on end find themselves in a lush, tranquil valley of incredible freshness and plenty. "True love will probably never reconcile with our social moorings, it never does. This social matrix is so essential for our survival, our day to day existence. True love has no place in the social array we all pledge our allegiance to. This true and pure love strikes like a flash, in fleeting opportunities, in brief encounters and sometimes through back doors. From time to time, it shows its golden promise and those moments are precious." She was so right in her assertion that he can’t own time and fix all the variables to his liking. He may make a decision today based purely on honourable intents and with a clean heart, but this may not survive the harsh questions life may pose in future. There is a real risk that he might damage the very soul, the very person he loves so tenderly and yearned for. Russell loved this time of year, the rustle of falling leaves and changing panorama always fascinated him. Just a reminder of the cycle of life, meaning the end of one season that everything will lie dormant until next year and then spring to life with a fresh beginning. "Autumn colours and scenes are my favourite; they are so calming. We will go to Tiverton Lake this weekend will have the same chalet booked for us." Emma shook her head. "That will be so nice; I want to be close to nature for a while, away from here." The lake was just a mirror with tall pine birch and willows in majestic fall colours; a tapestry of orange, red, yellow, ochre beige and greens reflecting into the calm waters of this enchanting lake. There were not many people about, and the calm of the lake was only broken by the sounds of the pedals striking the water and ‘Tempest’just leaving a long trail of turbulence on the surface of lake. Emma took a deep breath and looked around as she admired the sheer majesty of the scene. "It’s so peaceful, so pretty", she said with a smile. "Indeed, it is." Russell began to peddle the canoe with steady strokes. Time stood still, this whole place, the meandering shallow river, the thickly wooded forest, the sun rays filtering through to forest floor, the scent of wildflowers, the warmth of July sunshine and all sorts of buzzing summer noises around them were just made for them. To stand on this bend of the river, on this bend of their life’s tortuous road, to feel this, absorb this and forever remember this. Russell was dazed with this ethereal delight once again; she ruffled his hairs as he lay in her lap, looking to the dark blue sky above.