Flowers of Spring

Our Story

I've looked up at the Spring sky over twenty-five times already. It's always the same. The big blue sky and the big white clouds; the roaming dandelions; the warm morning sun and the brisk moonlit night. It's a reminder of new beginnings; when the trees that had shed bloom once more and the looming flowers once again aim at the sky. The cherry blossoms grow far away from me, but I stand as one that grows every Spring. Because Spring bares my favorite smell—the fresh, flowery smell.

I await at a familiar train station. My feet are the source of clicks and clacks that echo throughout. I'm impatient this time. The minute hand on the analog clock on my wrist moves at a faster rate in my eyes. It hovers over the five-minute mark, then the ten, and the fifteen and the twenty until it reaches the thirty-minute mark. I grow desperate even when I know that the reason the trains were delayed was because of an impromptu inspection.

I decide to sit on a nearby bench. For some reason, I feel in a familiar state of mind. I get the sudden urge to watch the sunset at the pier and to eat ice cream. Today, I feel an inclination for vanilla ice cream with sprinkles on top. There's no one around me and my shoulder feels empty. It sure is a strange feeling.

The empty train station begins to fill up with the surge of a new crowd. The late trains have arrived. But I decide to stay seated. With one foot I slide the heel of my pumps off my foot. I cross my legs and play rhythm games with the dangling beige heel. The silence that made my every movement echo was now substituted by the loud chatter of late afternoon commuters. Even as they phase by me in ethereal ways, I stay focused on my playful heel.

My focus is interrupted by the view of glossy black pumps and black stockings. I look up to see Anna staring back at me. She sports a stylish lilac trench coat over her thin black turtleneck and bone white skirt.

"Sorry I'm late," she said in a sigh.

"Couldn't be helped," I said as I fixed my heel back in place.

"The train was packed. I didn't even find a seat."

"You can rest your feet for a bit. We're already late anyway."

"Are you sure? Won't your family worry?"

"Yes. It's fine. I'll just send them a message."

"Good."

Anna sat beside me and placed her bag on the opposite side. She hopped and sat closer, wiping down her skirt.

She ironed it with her own hands.

"How did it go today?" I asked her.

"Tons of meetings and lots of small talk. I never get used to those. After that, I met my editor and discussed some changes over coffee."

"Sounds like a hectic day."

"Yes. I haven't stopped since I left this morning. And you?"

"Well, today the students just had a half-day at school, but I had to stay behind grading tests. You'd think that by midterms they would at least learn who the first emperor of Rome was."

"Yeah ... it's obviously Julius Caesar. There's a play and everything."

"No ... it's Augustus."

"Well, I never did listen to History class much."

"I'll start rehearsing lectures with you from now on."

"I'd prefer if you didn't."

We both laughed. Anna leaned on my shoulder as we saw people passing by at different speeds.

My shoulder wasn't feeling empty anymore.

This familiar state of mind. It had been a while since we last sat idly. Our lives had become so hectic as of late. Anna was publishing her sixth novel and now had the added pressure of having one of her novels—the first one I ever read—adapted into a film. I had my own job as a history teacher in a high school. Life had gone from being so simple to become a satisfying toll for our minds and bodies.