Nobody Had Ever Cut An Orange For Her The Way He did

She loved oranges. An old habit. When she was a child, her mother cut an orange for her with love. Every morning. Without exception. On an olive green plate. Established like the sun. She still sees it picture perfect in her mind. The orange habit served to ensure that she started the day well. A school day without an orange on the menu was simply not the same. It gave her something to look forward to in the morning and furthermore her mother showed how much she loved her daughter. So in terms of oranges her mother's gesture was quite impressive.

The old school days were long gone and she did not live with her mother anymore. Instead she created her own space and took care of her own life. She did it the best she could. Life was simple. Smooth. Not like in a novel, where reality sometimes dresses up as a performance in which all actors pretend to have invented warm water. She understood that living her life according to her own nature was the best gift that she could offer herself. She simply adored her life. Next to her was a warm spot in her bed. Sounds coming from the kitchen. 

Yes, she invited him over. He said yes. To her heart and soul. The night had been short but they both loved it. When he left the bedroom, he was up to something. She could tell it in his gestures. She watched him. Doing his thing. The door was half open, half closed. She tried to figure out what he was doing. The kitchen kept the secret safe for a while. In her memories she went back to her school days. A soft smile reached her lips. So sweet. She saw how her mother prepared breakfast and the sound of the fridge opening, would Always be a sign of love to her. She just waited for the olive green plate and the sunny orange. 

He came back in the room and saw how she was dreaming away. He loved her so much. Her hair reflected the long summers that he was so fond of. Plenty of stories of adventures cried for attention, but he could not choose one, he loved them all. If he would have met her when he was a child, he would have wanted to be friends with her. They would have spent many time together and would simply have enjoyed their childhood together. He kissed her on her forehead. She opened her gorgeous eyes. They both smiled in that one second.

In his hand a plate. The olive green plate recognised her and said hi. She saw an orange in pieces. Her eyes observed the picture. Her mother Always had been the best in the art of serving oranges with love. But boy, this was something else. The orange was put on the plate with so much attention to detail and so much passion, that she had to overwrite her memories. This was so impressive. In that very moment she felt deeply loved. By life, by love and by him. Nobody had ever cut an orange for her the way he did and that was the simple truth. In the corner of the room, the novel decided to change the chapters. Inspired by the love that it witnessed. 

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By Liesbeth Leysen, MSc International Management