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IfThe Tempestwere happening in real life, I’d surely play a pivotal role in it. Just how did I manage to get involved in something this stormy and complicated?
I’d known Aurora and I had shared something the minute our eyes met on the day of my first class. All debacles aside, there had been something there. A connection.
I rubbed my eyes wearily and looked down at the piece of poetry I’d chosen to work on. It was meant to be an exploration of human emotions. Right now, I sounded like a corny idiot who’d forgotten how to rhyme lines.
You could cross
A thousand mountains
And seek splendidly new faces of the sun.
But I would still choose a quiet evening
Of nature at work
Outside my window.
A cup of tea, my soul,
And you for company.
Home to enough wilderness for
A hundred different worlds.
I’d love you as you’d let me, beloved.
With grace in my heart
I’d wreathe flowers for your hair.
We’d be time travelers in another life,
Another love.
To think there could ever be
Another chance at this life being fair.
Yeah, I sounded like a high-school idiot writing love poems and hoping to get into a band. I stared at the lines, frustrated with what I’d just created. June would think differently.
She’d ease out the right words from me. She’d hold my head in her hands and say, “El, you got this. If you need to, get your ass up from the chair and go smack your face with some good old sunshine. Then come back and write.”
And I’d tell her, “Do I look like a plant to you? I don’t need photosynthesis.”
I smiled, knowing exactly what she’d reply with. “You are a house plant with very complicated emotions. Now go, or else no lucky hour for you tonight.”
The corners of my eyes crinkled. I missed my wife. There was more than just plain old romance in our relationship. That part was beautiful, too, no doubt. But we were friends first. Friends who could banter about anything under the sun.
The afternoon demanded a walk, so I left my room and strolled toward our garden. I found Sally sitting cross-legged in front of a cluster of flowers. With her tiny fingers, she was carefully examining each flower, one by one.
"Hey there, sweetie! What are you up to?" I asked, crouching down beside her.
"Daddy, I'm looking at these pretty flowers," Sally replied, beaming up at me with her rosy cheeks.
"Ah, those are called daisies. They're very pretty, aren't they?" I said, pointing to the white and yellow blooms.
"I like them. Can you teach me about more flowers, Daddy?" Sally asked eagerly.
