Magnolia laid there, her mother had come in, shut the curtains, kissed her on the forehead and closed the door. She jumped out of bed and tiptoed to the window where she drew the curtains away. She sat on her knees and looked up, the pale light illuminating her face.
She looked up at me and smiled, waiting.
“Tell me again, tell me again!” She attempted to whisper.
So, again, I began the story as I always do.
“In another time, I was not yet confined to the sky. I walked among you, in search of something incredible. It wasn’t until I passed her in the street that early July morning that I knew what that something was.
She surpassed incredible. Her dark features were a contrast to her pale skin. She had dark brown hair that was curled to her torso and dark blue eyes that might pierce you if she were capable of such a thing.
While I saw these things first, it wasn’t what made me fall in love. It was the way she looked at the fresh flowers at the flea market. The way she smiled as she left coins in an old man’s hands and inhaled the flower’s scent. It was the way she walked; as if she had no other obligations in the world. It was the way she read in the park, on a bench alone, as the busy world went on. Somehow, unaware of her presence.
It was the way she sipped her strawberry lemonade under a yellow umbrella. It was the way she sat and stared at the lake in awe of the beauty. It was the way she ran in the morning, strong and determined. It was the way she looked at a complete stranger, someone everyone else had not noticed.
It was the way she laughed and smiled when I struggled to find words to ask her to dinner. It was the way she said ‘yes’ and beamed at me as though I were some king. It was the way she spoke about her passions, the way her words were crafted in her mind to inspire everyone.
These were the reasons I fell in love with her.
We walked and talked, I bought her flowers, smiled at the old man as I dropped the coins into his hand. She taught me how to run, encouraging me despite my heavy breaths. We sat under the yellow umbrella, me with a lemonade. We sat in the park where she taught me the importance of old books. She showed me how to love the wilderness and the complexity of the waves. She showed me the man in the moon, someone she had confided in on nights like these.
She taught me how to love everything around me, even myself. The only thing she couldn’t teach me was how to unlove something. She couldn’t teach me how to live without her or the necessity of moving away. She couldn’t teach me why it wasn’t the right time. She couldn’t teach me how to stop loving her.”
“So, that’s why you’re up there!” Magnolia yelled before she covered her mouth worried her parents might hear her.
“Yes, my child. Do you know why?”
“So you can watch over her day and night, and love her from a distance because she couldn’t teach you how to stop loving her.” She said in excitement. This time loud enough for the city to wake up.
“Magnolia, who are you talking to?” her mother asked stepping into the room.
“The man in the moon, of course.”
Looking down, I fell in love all over again.
It’s been a while, I know. After a crazy schedule, I had the urge to create something new and differen