Hue and Saturation

There is a bright crimson card that now adorns my white marble centre table. Ma, ensured it reached me just in time for my birthday.
It animates an otherwise lifeless, yet aesthetic living room. I have placed it partly open, so the writing on, and inside the card are readable as I pace around, Though I often don’t glance at it.

I often open the drawer below my dresser and look at the envelopes I have received from her over the last 3 years. They bear her handwriting, on the cover. The contents of the envelope have mostly been disposed off, but the envelopes sit in my drawer.

Back home, there are two rooms with a nameplate. One reads the name of my grandpa who is no more. The other reads the name of my mother. When I used to visit my folks, I remember staring at those nameplates. One glance towards grandpa’s and the other towards my mom’s. I remember telling myself, one day, all that will remain is the nameplate.

I stare at the card. The whites within the card reverberate with the palette my living room was designed with. Mostly earthly. The crimson seems loud and unannounced.
The handwriting on the envelopes I preserved, reserve a belonging, yet the writing in the card, much like the earlier contents of the many envelopes, reserved an occasion.