She got married during winter. During her honeymoon it was, she thought, so cold and sometimes depressingly dull. What she missed was the scorch of the sun not the biting snow. Every morning she would stare longingly at the eastern horizon. As if beseeching the sun to crawl out. The sun did not, at least not for the next three months. She soon gave up and learned to dress up.
He had always been there for her. He had known how she missed her home. But he had no worry about it. The prize was finally home. The hunt had seen him crawl half of the African jungle. Often doing good to the less privileged. They had been great companion which only marriage would epitomize. He had always sought how he could do good for a better reason. The opportunity may have found fruition at last. In the form of her.
She was young and intelligent. At a time many had taken to street and fast life, she had soberly invested in her community. Serving as a community usher. She was the face of her kin. Managing protocol issues voluntarily for the local Sheriff. Running the errands and getting paid handsomely for it. She drove a Passat. The latest model. The equivalent of Governor’s official car. But she had bought hers from her sweat.
They met during a government function. She had his enduring image embedded in her. He knew it and he was not hesitant to seize the moment. The date request was set for Feb the 14th. The venue was just as promising: the Treetops. The same venue the queen of England had been nesting when she was declared the Queen. Before then she was a princess. That was in the 1950s.
The sun had seen them wake up from different suites. Tea was served at the top fourth floor terrace overlooking the eastern horizon at 7 am, among the tree branches, hence Treetops. The birds provided the jazzy , if sometimes shrilly, backdrop tunes. The image of the rising sun was gentle and splendid. She took a snap. And momentarily lost herself in the gaze of the rising sun. It was to later tan him.
“What have you been snapping?” He had queried when she finally rested the camera on the table between them. “The sun”, she responded as she straightened to look at him keenly for the first time since their flight the previous day. The roses were so fresh. The dew was yet to evaporate. She could smell a whiff of it. She felt herself blush. From the sky the sun had crawled out majestically, she observed. She regained her composure. Next to her steaming cup on this bright Saturday morning, she discovered what he had wanted her to see. A ring. A diamond ring. It was the morning of the valentine’s and they had started it just right. The rest, as they say, is history.
Back to her honeymoon the following year. In the far away North Pole. To her, any cold place was North Pole. All she missed was the image of the rising sun. Otherwise, she was all too happy that they had made it at last. She had discovered the ultimate prize. Someone she could love after being an orphan for as long as she could remember. Like him, she was not worried either. She removed her photo album and showed him the photo she had captured that wonderful valentine morning. It was the image of the rising sun.
“You forgot to capture the ring”, he teased.
An embrace ensued.