White roses

I sharpened my eyes when the first transit bus arrived. Looking for your figure among the people who arrive and crowded to meet the bus stop. I am disappointed. In fact, I didn't find you in the human tomb at the bus's first stop.

I grunted, again exposing myself to waiting for you at the arrival of the second bus. About 20 minutes of my time to wait, the second transit bus arrives. My eyes wander, hoping to find your figure there.

I slipped away, half desperate. But I realized that the second bus stopped longer than usual. A moment of confidence appeared, I smiled faintly.

Sure enough, in the last few minutes, I found you, stepping carefully off the bus with the help of a conductor.

You're still the same as the last time we met. Your wavy hair is still ponytail back. You always wear a white knee-length dress that flutters a little when the wind blows. You who walked without hesitation with the white stick in the right hand.

I'm silent, just observing you from a distance I think is safe. I left when you also left the bus stop. Walk to the rhythm of your steps that seem frail from a distance, like a stalker.

I don't know, I don't know what reason to give for the habit of following you, which has now become a routine. I just like it, can't that be the answer? Because you don't need a reason, don't you think?

At the first T-junction, you turn into an alley. I still followed behind, though I know where your next direction must be the rose shop farther down the alley. The place where we first met seven days ago.

---

Seven days ago.

Exposure to hot air stung my skin as soon as I opened my black sedan door. Half running, I headed to a flower shop located across the street.

"Excuse me, is there a white rose still alive?"

The flower shop keeper asked me again, "You mean, the roses that haven't been picked?" I nodded.

She bit his lip, "There are many kinds of roses that I breed and sell here, including those white roses. But somehow, every time a white rosebud opens, it always dries up the day after, then dies. Sorry, sir, it seems you came across. bad time. "

I smiled wryly, made small talk, and then said goodbye.

I counted more than ten flower shops in this city for the sake of a white rose that is still alive. But in reality, nothing. They don't have the flowers I'm looking for all kinds of reasons. Whether it's sold out, the flowers have already been picked, the stock is empty, they don't sell them, and most recently, the flowers suddenly dry and then die. What's with the white roses in this place?

I took the cellphone from my pocket. Immediately press the dial button on the only number listed there.

"Hello? Sis, how is mom there? "

"Not very good Za. How's the white rose, have you found it?"

"Not yet." I hung up without saying a word.

I took a deep breath. Remembered how my mother used to water her favorite white rose which was always placed by the window of the hospital room. She always smiles every time he finds out I caught his activity while joking lightly,

"You know, Za? The white color of this rose can give calm and even reduce the pain that you feel. Don't let this bud wither, understand?"

I didn't respond much to what my mother said, because she would confuse things about white roses. I don't really like flowers, so I thought it was natural that I didn't pay attention to it.

It was different when a few days later the mother was in a critical period due to complications she received after chemotherapy. I tried to replace the mother's position to care for the white rose when she was still unable to regain consciousness. Trying to keep the promise not to let the rosebud wither.

I'm stupid, who doesn't know how to take care of my mother's white rose. A week later, the rose was wilted and rotten because the moisture content I was given was too much. I'm panicking. Moreover, the mother's condition got worse along with the fate of her dying white rose.

I'm still living in daydreaming so I saw a glimpse of your figure passing in front of my eyes. You are wearing a white knee-length dress, walking while leading a cane into an alley at the turn of the first T-junction. At first, there was nothing from you that attracted me. However, that perception changed as soon as I saw the thing you are holding in your hand, a white rose that is still alive.

Instantly, I was chasing and screaming for you. You stopped, not because of my cry, but because you had arrived at your destination. A flower shop far down the alley.

I was flabbergasted. I've been to more than ten flower shops, none of them sell the white roses I want. But look at your flower shop! There, lived dozens of lush white roses whose buds were perfectly blooming. What a coincidental irony.

I was about to walk over to you when you were opening the flower shop door. Unfortunately, my steps were held back by the ringing of the phone suddenly rang. Call from my brother.

"I've found it, Sis."

"Forget the white rose, Za. Come back to the hospital immediately! Mom died."

I was rooted to the spot. I ignored my sister's sobs on the other side of the phone. I haven't even replaced the bud of her favorite white rose, how can you go without saying goodbye to me?

Reality slapped me so hard. My eyes could not escape staring at the flower shop, whose white rose cracks spread out lushly filling the shop room. I'm late. What I have done is now in vain. Finally, I turned around and left.

---

I'm still faithfully following you from a distance. My mind is still chaotic with memories that suddenly flashed through my mind. As a supposition, if in the past I had not turned around and taken the time to greet you, what would have happened afterward?

You stop right in front of your flower shop, where there are only white roses. You start selecting keys to open the latches on the door. Then, the door lock client fell off. Half panicked, you crouched and crawled the ground, looking for the key you accidentally dropped.

Perhaps because of an instinctive urge, I finally moved to help you find the key. "I found your key," I said immediately when I managed to find and pick it up.

You turned around, your eyes were unfocused on me. "Is it true?" you asked, trying to feel the keys I offered. Sure if that's the key you're looking for, you smile. "Thank you very much, sir."

I smiled. As you will see. I shook my head slowly, suddenly being stupid.

"You're welcome." My response in the end.

You're speechless. Your forehead creases, as if you are thinking about something. "Haven't we met before, sir? I look familiar to your scent."

I swallowed hard. Do you realize that I'm always stalking you? "No, why?" I asked.

A smile forms on your face, "Will you wait a moment, sir?" You immediately strolled before I heard any words come out of my mouth. Soon you come back with a white rose that is still alive.

"This is for you, sir." You said while handing the white rose.

For a split second, I was silenced. "What's the white rose for?"

"White roses symbolize a form of respect, but sometimes also a form of grief to loved ones. You can choose one of them."

I swallowed hard, hesitant to accept the white rose.

You smiled wryly, "If you are in doubt about caring for it, you can plant it and let it grow wild."

I noticed the white rose in my hand. Just looking at the bud, my mind immediately drifted to remember the late mother. A week after her go, I had never visited my mother's grave.

"Sometimes plants need to sustain their own life."

I smiled at your said, somehow, I don't know. It's just that an idea popped into my mind. "Thank you," I sincerely say to you as I turn away while carrying the white rose that you gave. My feelings expand, I suddenly want to do the most appropriate thing right now, that's all. (End)