My Ancedote on the Frangipani Tree

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I catch two buses to work and during the 8-15 minute commute there and back, I lose myself in day-dreaming. I think about what my ideal life would look like. It would be me, A. and everybody we love in a friendly sea-side town. We'd have parties, dancing and everybody would be happy.
I think I'm describing a bit of Heaven on earth.

Soon Autumn will be here with its sun-kissed leaves and cooler mornings.
I'm looking forward it but in the meantime I'll say goodbye to the hot summer winds and scorching sun. This new season will bring alive new things and put an end to others.
Autumn is the coup de grace of the warmer seasons and the frangipani tree.
 
Mum once told me that the sweet scent of a frangipani is the essence of life.
I was meditating on that memory yesterday as I stood on my balcony, staring at the frangipani tree which leans over my neighbour's fence into my garden.
Frangipani flowers have a short life-span, they are like people in so many ways with their beauty and frailty. With the hardest shake on the branches of a moderate wind they are cast away, from the high majestic views to the earth below; they bruise and darken until the blend in with the dead leaves and dirt. Every life on earth is a small chapter in the Book of Life in Heaven. 
Beautiful and fragile, but so vibrant while it lasts.

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