ROSES

I was around five years old, the sun was out and I stood next to my cousin.

She, the only one with green eyes and beautiful long dark hair. A noise, possibly a cry.

It was my aunt, my uncle had died. Jamil.

And for a moment, the world was still.

Tears fell down like waterfalls, I was confused.

The smell of roses approached her, it was my uncle.

A shock roared throughout my family, they gathered around her. Crying on her shoulder, making sure
it was him.

She was perplexed by it all, she stood there wondering. A drug overdose, I figure out later in
life.

What if he were still here?

Would there be no picture of him hanging at my dad’s shop? Would there be no day of remembering his
light and presence? Would I still wonder about the roses?

A question pours through everyone’s mind, what if?