Lotus Blossoms

by Nick Yee

I remember the lake pavilion where we first met. The lotus blossoms glided effortlessly on the water's surface. A sweet fragrance filled the autumn evening. We were both young. We were both poor, but from that day on, we were both happy. I took Xiao-Hong to the pavilion today, but the pavilion is in disrepair. I would have told her the story of how we met, but of course she is too young to understand, and when I arrived at the pavilion my heart was too heavy to speak any words.

Xiao-Hong is sleeping soundly next to me. Every morning when she wakes, she looks a little bit more like you. I peer into the night. It is the same silver moon above these mulberry trees. It is the same stars that peer back at me. But the night has become so much quieter, so much lonelier.

Even as you slipped away, you became more beautiful every day. I was angry with the world. I was angry with the gods. I was angry with my own helplessness as I watched the pain ravage your body. But most of all, I think I was angry because I was afraid. I was afraid that I would lose you forever. And when you died, you took a part of my spirit with you.

When I lie down to sleep at night, the emptiness gnaws at my heart. I try not to cry out for fear of waking Xiao-Hong, but that only makes me cry out harder inside. I wonder how many tears I can hide before I falter. I wonder whether the tears can fill the emptiness inside.

I shall burn this letter so that you may read it and know that I still love you. When the candlelight flickers at night when there is no wind, I will tell myself that you are calling out my name. When the fragrance of lotus blossoms lingers in the house, I will tell myself that you still love me. And when the lotus blossoms bloom again, and others around me admire their beauty, I will tell myself how lucky I was to have married a woman whose face and heart were more beautiful than any lotus blossom.