Reds and Petals
红与瓣

“Harmony ripens in the quiet rituals and steadfast companionship of love.
热带风情，细水长流。”

oil on canvas
51x51cm

Ah Ma always came home with rambutans. A whole bunch – red, ripe and hairy – tied up with twine. She’d drop them into a big porcelain bowl on the kitchen counter, pluck a few, and eat it by the window, looking out. None of her children ever knew why – until much later.

It was Ah Gong. She said he never brought flowers, but he’d come back from the market on Rambutan Road with fruit so fresh the stems were still damp. The first time, she scolded him for spending money. The second time, she peeled one for him without a word.

That became their rhythm. Evenings under the frangipani tree after dinner, the air thick with the scent of night blooms. The radio playing the famous Hokkien songs of the day, cicadas humming in the dark. He always saved the last piece of rambutan for her, and every time, she would peel it for him, slipping the sweeter half into his palm. They never said “I love you.” But it echoed in the silence.

Decades passed. Their children grew up. Rambutans came packed in netting now, bought from the supermarkets, no longer freshly plucked but stacked under cold fluorescent lights. And Ah Gong was long gone.

But she would forever remember the evening night, music playing, the sweetness of the rambutan on her lips…

In the tropical hush, fruits and petals gather. A quiet harmony, ripened over a lifetime of love.

Harmony in love is not always loud or declared – sometimes, it’s in the small, steady gestures repeated over a lifetime, and the unspoken understanding between two people. The quiet rituals anchor us, and shared tradition keep love alive long after words are gone.