Flowers on Sunday All Told

I bought all the ranunculus I possibly could, dear.  Their petals are nothing more than wisps of color, yet astonishingly determined to reveal the rich, fertile center hidden within their incandescent wings.  Thank you so much for your help seeing the flowers.

To my surprise you asked for orange marmalade to put on the crumpets.  You were very clear about that – not apricot or peach.  And decent tea, with brie and apple.  The apple was full of summer, still thick and white inside, and just a little mouth-watering tartness, beneath the perfume of honey.

The wind blew the clouds over the sun like a bad mood, and then a moment later, brushed them away into clear, shining blue.  Over and over, the light dimmed and then regained the sky – changing the flowers and their story from one unforeseeable moment to the next.  Like your troubled, beautiful self – threatening storms, then beaming as if nothing was every wrong.

We had our talk, and I cried.  I wrote down what you said.  Keep taking chances.  All the best things happen when you fall in love and break your heart.

I wish you didn’t have to go.  We understand each other so much better now.  The unavoidable truth is, you had to leave forever for us to forgive each other.  For that, I know we are both sorry.

It was a very good day to be on Earth.

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