I'd Almost Forgotten ___________________________________________

The smell of roses. White roses, their leaves intact, their thorns all missing. Sitting in a vase, filling the room with their sweet, suffocating scent that wouldn't be forgotten.

But had been.

There was also a picture. A picture of a handsome young man with a strong face and piercing eyes. The photograph of the past, entombed in the frame of the present. A golden frame with swirling detail that gave the impression of royalty. Or love. A frame and a photograph that should not have been forgotten.

But had been.

Was there something more? Yes- the face of the most beautiful woman in the world. Her hair darker than any Arabian night, and silky, and smooth. Her skin the cream of the sand, a warming color that lightened the room and bedazzled the occupants. Her eyes a true brown, soulful, full of life and yet yearning for things that couldn't be forgotten.

But had been.

Then there was the woman's voice- as sweet as an angel's on a sunny day. As rhythmic as the beating of the heart. A sweet sound to accompany the sweet smell. The smell was of roses, and the voice was of their petals. Soft, delicate, and beautiful. Her laugh was an even better treat- comforting and heartfelt as though meant to be for everyone to hear and no one to forget.

But they had.

The woman was perfect in every way, shape and form. Everyone loved her; she loved everyone. She was kind and gentle, she was strong and stubborn, she was delicate and soft. Everything about her was appealing and everything about her was good. Beautiful. Perfect.

She had disappeared suddenly. She was no longer in focus. Her lovely face began to twist, her golden skin blurred and her eyes started to close. Her voice drowned out. Her laughter ceased. She was no longer there, nor was the picture.

The last thing that went was the everlasting but forgotten smell- of roses. The fragrance lingered for a time until it too had disappeared with the beautiful woman, with her beautiful picture inside its beautiful frame. Nothing about her could be found, her presence had gone, and the memory of her had begun to fade.

Jasmine awoke with a start and gasped for a breath. She had been dreaming. The woman, the picture, the smell had all been imagined. But then they had not. She had been real, pure, and true. She had sat where Jasmine was sitting now.

A radiant smile appeared out of thin air, accompanied by a darling child of three. It was a little boy, with his mother's eyes, and his father's strong face. His black hair shone in the sunlight and fit around his head perfectly, as a halo would an angel. Jasmine smiled.

"Momma?" asked the young child, his face full of life. "Was you asleep?"

"Yes, Ali. I was sleeping." Jasmine smiled at her son, the pride and joy of the kingdom. He looked so much like his father.

"Dida have a dream?" He asked, as he climbed onto her lap and hung his arms around her neck.

"Yes, Ali. I had a dream."

"Wassit about?"

Jasmine looked down at her son and smiled genuinely. "It was about your grandmother."

"Who?"

"Your grandmother- you didn't know her, but I did. She died before you were born."

"Oh." The child looked saddened by this news. "Washe a nice laddddyyyyy?" He asked.

"Yes, Ali. Yes, she was."

"Annu member her?"

Jasmine thought for a moment. "Yes, I remember her. I could not have forgotten."

"Then I member her too?" Asked the little boy uncertainly.

Jasmine looked at her dressing table and found the picture she had of her husband, Aladdin. It was in a lovely golden frame. Next to it was a vase full of flowers- just like the flowers he had given her on their first date.

"Yes, Ali. You remember her too."

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