When I was eighteen I would sit in the park for hours and watch people pass by. I would sit and think about the world and life, and lament just sitting in the park watching people go by. I would bring a notebook, and maybe make up stories but mostly just write about myself and my life.
I remember this one time a boy I had met sat on the bench with me, and took my notebook and drew a rose in it, and I thought i was in the middle of a movie scene. He was tall and thin and cocky and British. He had this air about him that was untouchable, and even though I wanted to nothing happened. He had decided he was going to be a very religious man, talked about it all the time. I sort of felt bad, sitting in the park with this trying-to-be very religious boy while he drew me flowers in my notebook.
He said he was going to be an artist, and signed the flower “Copyright Homeless Hat Productions”, I guess he thought it was funny. And sometimes I think about him, this beautiful boy in this fleetingly beautiful moment that we had and then was gone. I couldn’t tell you where he is now, I couldn’t tell you if he became a very religious man or not, I might not like the answer if I tried to look for it. I like to think of him like that always, eighteen years old sitting in the park drawing me a flower, signing it with ambitions that never came to fruition.
I think this is just great – poignant and beautiful and wise.
Thank you 🙂
What a lovely vignette that is. Those moments of unfulfilled connection. We’ve all been there I suppose.
A perfect image of wound of love in teen.
And perhaps you didn’t push for things to happen. You simply expected it to happen and felt sorry it didn’t happen…..*winks
Thank you for creating this beautiful, truthful thing. It made my day better to be able to read beautiful prose today. You have an exceptional skill, and I hope you keep writing, because great artists make the world a better place for everyone to live in.
Wow, thank you so much <3 that comment made my day better