Roses on Valentine's Day

     There was never any rose between my parents, they only ever gave each other malign words spitted out of rage as if they were strangers. They were not the protagonists of a happy ever after fairytale I wanted to believe we were in, they were just two savage beasts barking and attacking for territory. They screamed everyday in a humble apartment far from being a fancy castle with shiny and golden decorations. It was a place where I forced myself to stay and see the food on the table grow colder at every passing minute because I was unable to eat. My mother appeared cruel with such a heavy makeup on her face, hiding every flaw on her skin and making her obscure eyes stand out even more. They were so dark in contrast to the shiny and perfectly white smiles of all the princesses I heard about. Not even the prince was there, father hadn't anything noble or charming about him as ugly wrinkles appeared on his face while shouting — the appearance was more of a villain than of a hero. Moving away my gaze from their fight I saw a rose in a vase at the center of the table. The flower appeared undressed of many petals and the few remaining were gray and ready to fall any moment in the arms of a gentle winter death.

​

     I have never received a rose or any other type of flower from a parent, friend or lover. "I must be wrong, I am going crazy" I told myself as a child, holding on to the idea that my parents loved one another like all couples. I convinced myself to be blind for not noticing such a strong emotion in their actions. "Love doesn't exist and a happy ending is impossible" was my first thought while watching the dying rose on the table, it died because of the cold winter while my hope died out of the freezing cold atmosphere between my progenitors. "I am so jealous and alone…They will surely not last long" I mumbled in my mind watching all my close friends getting at least one of those majestic flowers in high school. For me they became a symbol of resentment.

​

     It is winter again, just like when the rose died, and it is Valentine's Day when I see three, four, ten couples all around me holding each others' rosy hands surrounded by the pure white snow all around the street. I can't help but notice one beautiful couple just beside me, and for a second I project on them the image of my parents being happily together...But it is just a mere imagination, it never happened. I deviate to their opposite direction walking away and leaving their dark shadows behind me as my fingers caress some crimson petals through the gloves. Later, I squeeze the bouquet to my chest while making entrance in my own home, but a piece of paper among the flowers makes its way down to the pavement along with some bright green leaves so I lean and pick it up reading out loud "To myself".

The resentful winter of my heart just passed away with its thorns and opened its path to a colorful spring with roses full of self-love.