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By Dylan Kwiatkowski Date: 2003 May 20 Comment on this Work [[2003.05.20.13.40.22881]] |
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At a table in a coffee house she sits stirring honey into her cup of tea. The golden sugar sweet, shining on her spoon like the morning sun though the window shades. Our eyes met for only a split second as her gaze rose towards an Italian movie poster hanging on the wall behind me. It was only for a moment and yet, in that brief glimpse I could read so much. Her eyes said it all. A green haze with blue outlines like candy coated sweets; because that's what she is. Her hair, long and twisted with blonde ringlets that bounced like springs whenever she would turn her head; reminded me of Sarah Jessica Parker. Skin so soft and clear, it begged to be kissed. But in her eyes I could see time had passed, and years had grown on her shoulders with the weight of broken promises. Years since lips danced across her cheek. I wanted to pick her up into my arms, hold her tight, and tell her that everything was going to be fine. I wanted to whisper in her ear under the moonlit sky, making wishes of forever to the shooting stars above. I dreamt of climbing to the highest mountain and confessing to the world, my love for her. Thoughts of our wedding day flashed through my head. For a moment, I could see our two children, Tristan and Madison, playing in the sand on the beach with a childish delight. For the first time I notice a ring on her finger. I'm sent crashing back to the coffee house, my green chai tea with cinnamon now cooled enough to drink. A waitress near is me wiping down a table with a damp cloth and a spray bottle. In it, a disinfectant which fills my nostrils with the scent of oranges and lemons. I ask her what the story is on the Sarah Jessica Parker sitting at the table across from mine. She tells me that she's in there every Tuesday at the same time. Orders the same drink, a plain tea with a side of honey. I find out that her husband had passed away a few years ago. Waves of sadness and pity wash over me. I'm able to put the small pieces of the puzzle together. She must come back to that coffee house as part of a tradition she once shared with him. The ring, a keepsake and constant reminder of the love that they had found. A bond that even in death, couldn't be broken. Looking down, I suddenly don't feel bad about the pen I'm writing with. A gift from my ex, inscribed with the words, "Eternally Yours." I guess that some things are hard to let go of. No matter who you are, or what you have gone though. It's those little things we do out of tradition or habit, that keep the memories of those special times around, just that little bit longer. She gathers her things, and walks past me towards the front door. Opening it she looks back and flashes me a quick smile. I smile back and give a wave, before making a note in my day planner for the following Tuesday. |