It was another lovely, snowy day in the city of Wisteria; my mind thought as I closed my eyes to take a deep breath in to feel the crisp, cold air freshens my lungs. Then open my eyes back up to the angelic sky; I have always wondered how light rains of snow could be falling down even with the sun shining bright. Looking straight ahead, I continue my stroll heading towards my favorite spot where Ms. Garrett sells her famous homemade blueberry lemon tea. Ms. Garrett is a kind, fragile woman who owns a cafe a few blocks from where I live, and for the past decade she has treated me like a daughter; so, I spend most of my afternoons with her gossiping about the neighborhood’s grouchy cat lady. The whole block talks about the grouchy cat lady, and their reason for that is most likely because she owns about fourteen of them.
The rusty, bright blue chair with the small cushion was awaiting me in the corner of the room. It was positioned perfectly where you can feel the cold breeze from outside as people walk through the door, but next to the fireplace where you can keep yourself toasty as if you were wrapped in a blanket. It is a perfect balance. As I sit down, Ms. Garrett is already arriving at my table with my usual. Growing up mostly alone, it feels comforting being greeted with that lovely smile of hers. I stare as she walks toward me with my favorite teacup in her hands; A perfect-sized teacup made of fine china that was imported overseas. She carefully places the cup in my hands, and I am instantly feeling the warmth of the cup travel around my hands. “Thank you,” I say as she turns around and walks away giving a soft twirl to her long, silky dress. I look down to admire the perfected cup of flavors in my hands, and I watched the waves of steam rise up from the surface of the tea. I bring the cute, mushroom-decorated teacup closer to my face preparing my tastebuds with excitement. I felt the steam softly brush my cheek; it felt similar to a baby’s hand touching a mother’s cheek with their nubby knuckles. Finally taking a sip, I could feel the tea traveling through my body and releasing its warmth into my stomach. It was the perfect companion to a snowy day, and there was nothing that could make this day better. That was until… you walked in.
As soon as you walked through that wooden door, I could feel the room filling with your aroma. I couldn’t help but feel my stomach fluttering as if someone were trapped in there with a feather tickling me to the point where I couldn’t breathe anymore. You were the first to ever show me that someone could quite literally take your breath away. I stared at you. I stared at your gorgeous dark brown hair, watching the little snowflakes from outside melting in it. Our eyes met; I swear I remember seeing a sparkle in your eyes. You started walking towards me. I lightly flick my long, curly, brown hair behind me. I could feel my heart pounding like it was about to burst out of my chest. My cheeks are turning red and hot, while you don’t even have the slightest look of uneasiness on your face. It felt like an eternity, but finally, you are standing next to me. Your hand reaches out to me. Hesitant at first, but I move my head closer leaning my right cheek onto your palm.
“Be patient, I did promise we would meet again soon.” you whispered with your husky voice
In the blink of an eye… you disappeared. I lost you, but at the same time, you are constantly with me. When will these encounters stop? In the most random places, I get the most vivid glimpses of you. All I can do is endure the experience until you’re gone. I think back to the moments we shared together in this cafe. With both of us coming from broken homes, we sought comfort with Ms. Garret and her delicious pastries. The moment I saw you, I had instantly fallen in love with you. A complete stranger to me at the time. We met consistently in that cafe for a wonderful 6 months until you decided to finally ask me out. Weekend dates turned into yearly anniversaries, and anniversaries turned into painful memories. Now, the only “anniversary” we have together is spent at your grave every 2nd of August. Trying to calm my heart, as I reassure myself that you are somewhere safe where harm can’t reach you. It has been three, long years since the day you were taken from me by the angels up above. Our promise to each other hasn’t changed, and it never will; when the time comes, we shall reunite… but as the days go by, my question remains.
When is “again”?
When will you be mine again?