She smiled shyly the first time she brought me flowers-
They were my favorite colors.
She wanted me to remember
That someone was thinking about me
And that I was not alone as I navigated my grief.
I later took pictures of the bouquet from all different angles
And sent the photos to all my friends
Who were so impressed by such thoughtfulness
She smiled proudly the next few times she gifted me a flower arrangement
Some were roses of different sizes,
Others were seasonal blooms
The flowers were to honor our anniversaries,
Or to celebrate my accomplishments
I took pictures of all those flowers
And I changed their water daily
To extend the time I could admire them before they wilted
At some point, her smiles weakened
Sometimes even tears stained her cheeks,
When she handed me beautiful flowers
In an attempt to seek forgiveness,
To seek reassurance of my love for her
I always accepted the flowers graciously
And put them in a vase
To be admired until they died, or until they stank too much
The last time she brought me a bouquet, she was crying hysterically
She had been waiting an hour for me
And I had been waiting for weeks for things to improve between us.
Her shoulders slumped as she offered me the flowers
This time…I told her to keep them
She put them in a vase,
Placed the vase on her nightstand
And sent me a picture.
© 2019 Vic Romero
In this month, I’ve come out to my parents a second time, my parents met my girlfriend, and I also got into my first fight with my girlfriend.
By “coming out” a second time, I just told my parents that I had a girlfriend. My dad handled it better than my mom…not that my mom handled it terribly this time though. My mom basically worried about my safety and my future, meanwhile my dad focused more on the fact that I can tell him anything and that he loves me.