Reflections of red on white

Red upon white, the singular splotch of intense colors in the now fading photograph, a reminder of that first meeting.

A tall, slender single rose, with petals yet to open, youth just budding, much like the hopes and aspirations of that 20 year old second year university student, in the design class, she had chosen as an  arts option in her engineering degree. Long stemmed rose with delicate spines hidden among the fresh green leaves. Thorns that are hidden, not evident until the flower is picked up and caressed, hidden to emerge for both protection and attack. Oh, her naivety or was it wishful thinking at that time? Tall slender crystal vase, edges fluted in silver, the promise of endless time, unchanging, aging gracefully. Had we, did we, would we? Set against a background of stark white, a soft velvet cloth was draped to absorb any reflective light, so photos could be taken from any angle, no surprise flashes, unwanted bright spots. The flashes in their relationship had been many; very few at first, often muted like the soft white cloth. Those flashes, those uprisings, times of temper, battles of intellect and times of passion, often the lifeblood of the relationship, the intensity of red upon white, but also the death knoll. How she longed for that intensity, but also knew it was a part of the past, like the sepia photo with curling edges. His seeming wisdom, sense of direction and artistic skill were mesmerizing to that young student. His intense blue eyes, slightly graying mustache, creased forehead with wayward lock of dark curly hair, she could almost feel it now, the memory of her fingers lightly brushing it away.

A single rose, red on white, that first meeting of student and  young grad instructor, so long ago and yet like but an instant ago.

Carefully, with gnarled arthritic fingers, she replaced the photo in the art book from which it fell.

He glanced up, pushing his reading glasses down, peering over with those intense blue eyes, beneath bushy white brows," Did you say something, dear? "

" No, just thinking," and smiling, as she again, glanced at the fresh single rose in the silver vase by the snowy window,... this gift of red on white that quietly appeared yearly in mid February.

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY ALL!