The wind blew across the emerald green field, rustling the wild grasses and coaxing the sweet scents from the flowers. The greenery stretched into the horizon, seemingly never-ending.
Among the rich colors of Mother Nature, were dotted with the white and gray of man-made cement, and whitewashed bricks. It was a peaceful place, as befitting for those lying six-feet under, that made this field their final resting place.
A carefully maintained path winded through the cemetery, passing in front of every tomb. A solitary young man walked along this path, his arms occupied with a large bouquet of white lilies. Dressed casually in a white polo tee and faded blue jeans, his feet was clad in a pair of well-worn sneakers. Breathing in the crisp fresh air of the dewy morning mixed with the flower's scent, the young man walked slowly along the path, his destination at the far end.
The young man was tall, his long legs eating up the distance easily although he was walking slowly. His steps seemed to be weighted and heavy, perhaps reflecting the troubles in his heart. It was his several visit to this field, but the years have made neither the heartache nor the lingering sadness fade away.
Occasionally, he would raise the white lilies to his nose and drown his senses in the scent of the flowers. They would bring him back in memory to happier times, times which grew fainter and dimmer with the passing of years. The happy times, like all beautiful things, dies like the sparks of fireworks, or the flitting flutters of a butterfly's wings.
In fact, the young man fought against the loss of these memories, and guarded them like Cerberus guarded the gates to Hades' world. The more he resisted, the more it was like grasping water in his fist. Even now, the flower scents no longer give him a sense of peace, but seem to be reminding him what he was forgetting with the passing of time. Time was no gentle healer to him. It eroded all things and memories he holds dear, and leaves behind empty husks that refused to be washed away.
Reaching his destination, he knelt down in front of the tomb and placed his flowers lovingly on the altar. He reached out and brushed away the dry leaves that had collected around the tomb. They had fallen from the huge sakura tree standing near the tomb. Next, he cleared away the bits of weeds that have sprouted up in between the cracks, and around the tomb. He left the small daffodils and fallen blossoms from the tree alone though, for they added their bits of coloured cheer to the area.
The young man than knelt down in front of the tomb again, with his hands clasped in front of him. He closed his eyes seemingly in a prayer...or maybe he was pouring out the events in his past year. He would receive no reply, nor any advice, but every year, he would make a trip down to this exact same spot. Every year, he would kneel down in this way and relay his thoughts, his problems, and his successes. Silence would always greet him back, but it had become his habit. Things always seemed clearer to him after he finished pouring his heart out. It was as if the occupants of the tomb was making up their departure in the physical world to the young man by emanating a peaceful aura that always cleared his head.
The young man sat down, and for the first time since he arrived, lost the worry lines around his eyes and mouth. In fact, the young man, though still possessing an air of lingering sadness around him, looked to be more at peace now. Time stopped for him, and he basked in the seductive calmness and solitude of the area.
And the wind continued its playful journey across the field, weaving though the young man's spiky hair along the way. He had already fallen into a dreamless sleep,leaning against the sakura tree, worries momentarily forgotten.