yesterday at the airport i saw a broad-shouldered, dark-haired, khaki-pants-and-polo-shirt-sporting confident mid-twenties guy awkwardly holding a beautiful bouquet of pink tissue wrapped white lilies and queen anne's lace.
awkwardly because i think he was afraid of breaking the stems in his hands, so instead he held them loosely but then was afraid of dropping them on the cold tile floor where they would have been smothered by rushed footsteps and rolling suitcases.
confident because someone he had missed - someone who had missed him in return - was about to emerge through the arrivals gate doors like a breath of fresh air to rejuvenate the meaning in his life.
knowing as i was not this person for anyone impatiently waiting on the other side of the threshold, i tried not to think too long about it.
the unusual combination of queen anne's lace and white lilies and not the hollywoodized red roses means that he knew they were her favourites. maybe she hinted at it once, maybe she outright told him one day, maybe he asked her mom or her best friend.
last night i had a dream and you were in it, confidently/awkwardly clutching a single fresh orange and purple and green and pink bird of paradise flower and wearing anxiously searching eyes, quickly scanning the travel weary arriving crowd for me.
i woke up. i knew it was a dream.
i never told you that i love birds of paradise and i knew i wasn't missed the same way i had missed.
afterwards, i couldn't go back to sleep. i told myself it was only jet lag.