The vase: A short story

This post was first published on Two Drops of Ink in April of 2011. It has remained one of the most read posts on the blog. As a tribute to its success, we are posting it again. Enjoy. 

A woman is like a beautiful vase that must be protect by her man with his very life. Once the vase is cracked or broken, it can be repaired, but it will never be the same.

There once was a man who had a beautiful woman, and yet, he did not understand how precious and fragile her heart could be. She was so strong and in love with him. And he knew she would always be there for him.
At first he spent every day caring for her needs, and he cherished their every moment together; she was the only woman he had ever truly loved.
As time went on this man began to take her love for granted. He forgot how truly precious she was to him.
He was never there on the nights she cried, or when she was lonely and needed his love.
He forgot to take the time to appreciate her gentle care for their home and for his every need.
This beautiful woman loved him so much. She cherished his heart and left him without a want or care.
She was a woman who knew how to love her man. Everything in her being sought to please him and care for him. In life any fire, no matter how strong or high, can become cold and die.
Love is just like a burning fire which has flames that rise higher, become stronger, and the heat of those flames increases as fuel is added to the fire; the hotter the flames the more it burns its fuel; If no fuel is added to the fire it will soon burn out and turn to ash.
If a man continues to take from the one he loves but never gives, he is letting the fuel that the fire so desperately needs burn down. He is letting his lover`s heart grow cold and the love she once had begins to die out.
One day the man came home and his love was not there. He called her name and searched the house but she was gone. At first he was angry that she dared to worry him so; he wondered how she could be so cold as to leave without a care!
He walked to their bedroom and saw it was empty, she was gone…
On the other side of the room was a night stand with a vase which he had once brought to her full of flowers. The vase had fallen and was broken in half. He had glued the vase back for her because she loved it so much.
For a moment all he could do was stare at the vase, his mind reeled with thoughts, memories began to return.
He leaned against the wall and slowly slid down with his hands upon his checks in despair…
His memory went back to a summer day where he sat on the front porch at home with his mother…
“Son, some day you will find a beautiful woman to love and cherish”
“A woman is like a vase my son, a precious vase that you must protect with your life”
“Do not let her heart crack, or get broken, or it will never be the same”

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