April 27, 2005
Moment fragile
There was a single petal on the pavement. It was surprisingly large, a little too large for a common rose, though my eye has little experience on such things and I really couldn't be certain. If I were a botanist, would I have been able to tell?
Its presence here was an unsolvable mystery. There was no visible clue to its likely origin — all the trees and bushes in sight were gangly, green buds venturing into spring, none of them bearing any flowers. Perhaps it was the unintended victim of a delivered bouquet ... Yet somehow by the miracle of the winds, a fragment of a flower and I crossed paths.
A serendipitous meeting. It was raining when we climbed out of the car, and in a mad struggle of handbags and umbrellas we managed to arrange ourselves into a practical unit that kept us at least partially dry. I held the umbrella by the crook of its handle in a practiced grip, she held onto my arm and I suddenly felt shy.
A new pair of shoes. I constantly surprise myself at how quickly I wear out good shoes merely by how much I walk.
Three days buried under paperwork and no days to breathe.
Sometimes, the sweetest moments are temporary. The chance encounter with someone like-minded, the accidental meeting of glances, the unexpected crossing of paths. But truly tender moments are those built upon previous — equally fragile — tender moments that would only shatter if you grasp too tight, or slip away if you don't hold on tight enough.
As usual, I scored a few strange looks while I stole a photo, but I am used to that by now. Silently, stealthily and without fuss, I slipped the camera away and made my way down the street, past the big gaping hole they have opened in the ground, showering the immediate world with indiscriminate dust.
Posted by sniffles at 01:45 AM | Comments (3)
