more than buying me flowers
he brought home the bouquet for my birthday in may. calendulas dyed deeper, petals of roses buds interchanging vivid colors. the dye added a different element to the flowers. it reminded me of the inconsistencies within my self and my relationship with him. our ups and downs, blues and pinks. the distance and the closeness, reds and yellows.
i watched the flowers soak up these sentiments until they were brittle when i went to water them.
i pulled them from the vase and a ponytail from my wrist.
i tied the ponytail to the stems and hung the bunch from the curtain rod above our bed*.
*replaced ‘my’ with ‘our’. i have to correct myself with ‘our’ after accidentally saying ‘my’.
my bed has been mine for five years now. my bed has been ours for a little more than five months. i have more experience sharing that bed with my stuffed animals than him, but i wake up after he’s left for work and can’t fall back asleep. it’s warmer under the covers and in my chest when he’s around. and that warmth feels as necessary as the sun to the moon in an eclipse. whether it was an overwhelming sense of love or lust or the crumbling sensation of my heart being broken, heat floods thru me and shows itself in my cheeks when he is a part of my life.
when we got back together, again, i realized in order to love him completely, i'd have to accept the parts of him that’ve hurt or confused me. because there are parts in all of us that hurt and confuse others. and even knowing the pain of a cliché, i’m still going to say it’s the person’s intention that matters. once our intentions finally became the same, each other’s actions suddenly felt a lot less painful or conflicting with our own.
i’m not sure if he carried the flowers home thinking of the symbolism behind the dye, or if there was just a good deal at the flower shop down the road. i’m not sure if he felt the weight of the blood moon when she made her way over our home.
but i know, despite our differences, we want the same thing:
to be with each other.
being with another person isn’t easy.
so we do our best to make it work.
and my best is in my magic.
we’ve known each for 12 years and in another 18, the next blood moon will reappear. on the night of this last eclipse, i woke up from a fever nap to him puzzling. the one he was working on this time was of tigers and the moon winking at them from above. i stepped outside to see the eclipse the same shape as the moon on his puzzle.
once the eclipse reached it’s peak, the moon blushing as tho it’s heart was breaking, every emotive sunset’s reflection shining on it’s surface at once, and those emotions filling us up, we went outside to watch. this blood moon was positioned perfectly for creating harmony out of tension, strengthening relationships and moving forward on a path together.
i told him we wouldn’t see this moon again until we’re old, so he should kiss me now.
he laughed but kissed me anyway because we’ve begun to see eye to eye.
or if not agreeing with each other always believing in the other.
and i believed if we kissed under this moon, we’d be kissing again under the next.
as the light of the moon we were used to slowly reappeared, i lit a candle. below the candle was a small container filled with the petals of the roses and calendulas, peeled away from their stem. although the contents were few in number, the flowers had been hanging over our bed for months, so they were already charged with meaning.
with every heated conversation and every intimate moment.
most recently, with our breakthrus.
with patience and understanding.
with tense moments laughed away, because at the end of the day, any issue we’ve had with each other has shown to be an issue with our selves.
with honest communication and kisses we’ve seemed to figure out how we work. how to forgive one another. how to be empathetic with one another. this spell jar contained the essence of these attempts to put love first.
soaking in the blood moon’s blooming light and surrounded by crystals that resonated with their own relationships to love, the candle slowly melted and captured our intentions, sacrifices, and new truths. now the spell jar is settled in on our bookshelf and we can each continue looking up at a symbol for our future or simply a reminder that we’ve survived the challenges of the past.
catch business is a person and a poet. her blog is here. she lives and dies daily in denver.