Tuesday Tales Flower
Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales.
“I remember your favorite flower.” Connor’s words
floated through the air as he bent forward, plucking a tall proud Indian Paint
Brush from the ground.
When I was a child, I imagined Native Americans
actually using these flowers to paint. Those lush red petals spreading some naturally
made paint across buffalo hides and peace pipes. As a knowledged adult, I’m
sure they couldn’t have used those flowers as a brush, although it’s magic to
believe they did.
Connor used to pick these for me every late spring. Even
at an early age, he was learning how to be simply romantic, the best kind of
gesture came from his heart, not his wallet. I appreciated his kindness. Some guys
in their teenage years perform gestures expecting some type of physical
gratuity- not Connor. He was always my best friend first, respecting me to the
core.
“I’m not surprised you remembered. You have a super
impressive memory.” Accepting the flower from his outstretched hand, I actually
wanted to move in closer and breathe him in. My face would meet his chest, the
perfect location to take him all in.
“Of course I remember, it’s you we’re talking about.” Laughing,
he tweaked my nose. “I bet I know more about you than you know about me, or
even yourself for that matter.”
Yep, he spoke the truth and I loved him deeply for it,
I never stopped. Anyone who says teenage love can never be real, well, they
aren’t true romantics. I grew up loving this human. Time apart may have changed
our circumstances, but, would never change how I felt about him. My heart made
room for two men, now three, counting the littlest member of our tribe.
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