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WhyDid’s Words: Love’s Cliché
“When can I see you?”
“Soon,” I said, “but not Tuesday.”
“Why not Tuesday?”
“It’s Valentine’s Day.”
“Do you have plans?”
“No, that’s the whole point.”
He laughed, brushed the hair back from my face, kissed my cheek. “Okay, bella. Not Tuesday. How is Thursday?”
“Fine.”
He laughed again. “For such a hopeless romantic, you are certainly opposed to the one day of the year dedicated to love.”
“It’s a cliché. Besides, all true romantics know that everyday is just as dedicated to love as the next. Just send me some roses.”
“No, bella. Roses are too cliché for a love as unique as this.”
WhyDid’s Words: Little Deaths
Personal Journal Entry, 5/14/16
The flowers on my dresser facing my bed, my morning view, were dead this morning. what a sad, sad, true life analogy.
Two days ago, you were here with me and there was a moment I felt like I wanted to blurt out, “I love you.” Crazy as I don’t really know you and it hasn’t been all that long. But the way you made me feel was undeniable. Something I haven’t felt in quite some time– if ever. There were times I thought I could go on kissing you forever and even that might not be long enough.
From the moment we met, it was that way. Ironically, you were the first to point it out.
When I was with anyone else, I felt guilty. When I was with you, I didn’t feel guilty about anyone else. That’s how I knew. That’s when I pulled all of the irons out of the fire. I felt loyalty to you, though you’d never pledged yours to me.
I almost cried this morning when I tossed the yellow tulips in the trash. It somehow felt symbolic. It was also was a cruel reminder that even the most beautiful things are fated to shrivel up and die. How can something so lovely be so temporary? I suppose that’s why one should never grow too attached to things that could be so fleeting.
My mom used to tell my father not to buy her flowers. She hated when they died. And yet, I love nothing more than a room full of flowers. So much so, that I’ve never bothered to wait for someone to buy them for me. They are my little luxury.
I knew that day you were going to bring me flowers and I have no idea why. And there you were; handsome and tall, standing at my door, patting the dog with one hand, tissue paper wrapped bouquet in the other.
Those yellow tulips lasted longer than the white roses I’d bought myself the very same day. “A sign!” I’d thought. And then something changed. A shift imperceptible to most, like the temperature dropping a degree only noticeable to the mercury of a thermometer.
I should have ignored it. Kept my mouth shut, but that’s not something this sensitive soul has ever been good at. My intuition has never steered my wrong, but my big mouth has.
And then they were dead. And you were gone.
I’ll buy myself new flowers next week. Some to refill the empty vase, the empty space.
You’ll show up at another door with flowers soon. A new vase to fill.
Where Are You?: All I Need Is You
All I need is you and some sunsets…
If you asked my favorite color, I couldn’t tell you. Just like I couldn’t tell you the name of my favorite book, my favorite movie, or the best album of all time.
To choose means to shun all others. And there are some days my heart loves blue as much as it does red and when I only want to watch something silly instead of complex or can only stomach the sound of Etta James.
But with sunsets, just like you, I never grow bored. You see, the sky is constantly changing. Never forcing me to commit to just one color, but instead inspiring me and aweing me with its magnificence and ability to always keep me guessing.
