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How We Met Entry #4

Sean Platt of Writer Dad, Collective Inkwell, GhostWriter and Blogopolisblueprint submitted the next entry to the writing contests and it is just a lovely telling of how he met his partner for life at his flower shop.

Sean is a professional writer and blogger and I am going to invite you to explore his sites to find out more about him and let you get right to his lovely entry. I just know you will want to read more of his creative words so added all the links I could find.

Each of us is the sum of an infinity of thinly sliced seconds, where each one matters, at least to some degree. How could we ever hope to pinpoint that decisive second when things forever changed; the instant the axis of our world shifted and began to orbit in a different direction?

It might be difficult, but can be done. Tally your life, take it apart, and turn a seemingly impossible task to tremendously simple.

I know the moment my life took its first step down an aisle it would never leave. I ponder it often.

I pay no mind to the property values of my neighbors or the car I drive. My family, living, and piece of mind, these are what give my rapture breath. None would exist without the assembly of moments from this most remembered day.

I was working in a flower shop with my family on the day my life moved from middling to merit mounting. Our shop lay at the lip of a city I’d scarcely left. A stranger, a petite lady with eyes like chocolate almonds, had moved to town the previous year. She had been shopping amongst our flowers for maybe a month.

Every time she passed our vibrant displays and rounded the corner to enter our doors, I’d abandon my knife, rush my phone call, or attend to some trifle that could have easily waited, had it not been in her vicinity.

Our store was in prep until ten, but she always showed up about a half hour early. “Do you mind if I buy a few things that are already put together?”

She also knew precisely what to ask.

“Of course not,” I’d say, the words always falling behind a smile.

It was my job to keep the early birds away, but she spent enough for me to slither through rules without consequence.

Her visits grew earlier and her totals kept climbing.

I was helping her to the car on a beautiful October day, a fraction less than a month after our eyes first locked. My arms saddled with blossoms, I saw her sashay to her space from behind a bundle of fully bloomed roses.

I blushed, squeezed by, then laid the blooms across the passenger seat of her red (orange) pickup, Texas plates in a California lot. I arranged the bunches then turned to face her. Her enormous coco pupils pulled my hazel ones toward them, like ore to magnet.

I cannot recall the length of this moment, only that a single bird sang and that the perfect note felt like an epiphany.

She slipped something between my fingers. “I’m going to go broke if I keep doing it this way,” she said. Words flew from her mouth as though escaping. “Call me sometime, and we could talk longer, over a cup of coffee.”

Still in the dusty aftermath of my previous liaison, I said, “I’m just at the end of a relationship. I’m flattered, really, but I don’t think I’m ready.”

She said something then that only clinical dementia could ever steal. “Life’s too short to be unhappy. Think about it, then call me.”

All fifteen syllables sounded like a smile.

I did call, though two weeks drifted from the calendar. I wasn’t playing games, only intimidated by the strength of our obvious and unexpected bond. I found my fortitude and made up for my missing days.

I picked up the phone around 9:30 on a Friday night, the first week of November. We talked until the sun was almost a promised fulfilled.

Monday, she left on business, but her absence did nothing to dim our exchange. Each day after work, we exchanged words across a land line until far past midnight, each minute driving an already expensive hotel phone bill closer toward outrageous.

It was worth every single copper faced Lincoln.

She tore into town that next Friday, not even stopping to change. We met at a Mexican restaurant in the same center as the flower shop.

That long week was prologue to my present day; a now that can be easily traced to a single moment.

The house we live in was agreed on in twilight as the two of us held hands. A boy and a girl wait for stories each night at bedtime, snug in the cradle of my lap. They were baked in her oven from our special recipe. Our living is made in tandem, because she is yin to my yang and we’ve found ourselves happiest with the fewest possible pauses in conversation.

Our most intimate moments together would have never happened without her strolling into the store, slipping me her card, or telling me life’s too short to spend it even a sliver less than happy.

I often ponder the sliding doors of my life, and all those trails never taken. Which crossroads would have dropped me somewhere else on the day my fate was delivered?

It is impossible to know.

What I do know is that I wouldn’t trade my fate for affluence beyond imagination. There is no other life, be it prince or king, that I’d exchange for mine. I already live a life of abundance and can draw a timeline and place my pointer on the precise moment that brought it to me.

Thank you Sean and to all the writers who submitted such lovely pieces to this contest.

I invite you to explore their blog sites to read more of their good words and ideas and hope you enjoyed hearing these stories.

I still think that folks do not get enough opportunity to share their own personal stories about how they met, what do you think?

11 Responses to “How We Met Entry #4”

  1. Betsy Wuebker Says:

    “I already live a life of abundance and can draw a timeline and place my pointer on the precise moment that brought it to me.”

    That’s a grounding wire if there ever was one. I remember reading the story of how Cindy and Sean met a while back in Writer Dad’s blog. It’s forever lovely. Thank you.

    Betsy Wuebkers last blog post..FROM THE ROAD: INTO THE YUKON

  2. Writer Dad Says:

    Thanks for the highlight Patricia. Of course this is one of my favorite stories! : > )

    Writer Dads last blog post..Children Write the Future Writing Contest

  3. Mike Says:

    Interesting story.

    From Sean’s blog, it seems as though they have a very special and loving relationship.

    Mikes last blog post..Mea culpa on replies to blog comments

  4. Vered - MomGrind Says:

    Beautiful and very well written – but that’s hardly a surprise when Sean is the writer.

    Vered – MomGrinds last blog post..10 Ways To Hate Yourself As A Woman

  5. Jannie Funster Says:

    This brought a tear, how beautifully told. This guy has it together in both love and writing.

    I knew about a couple of his sites and am now off to check out the other two. Thanks, Patricia!

    Jannie Funsters last blog post..Got Gravatar? No? It’s Easy!

  6. Patricia Says:

    It is such a lovely story and I have been so pleased to share this story line that doesn’t often see the light of day.

    Writer Dad – Sean,
    I need to thank you and all the contest entrants

    Welcome home and nice to find you here. It is an interesting story

    Just beautiful – I wish there were more to share

    I sent a rose to the office with my honey this morning because of Sean’s post…it is red, called Proud Land and just smells magnificent. Honey’s Father gave it to us as a wedding present along with the rose called JFK

  7. Kathy | Virtual Impax Says:

    This is truly beautiful.

    “Life’s too short to be unhappy. Think about it, then call me.”

    What a wonderful line!!! What a wonderful story!!!

    “I already live a life of abundance and can draw a timeline and place my pointer on the precise moment that brought it to me.”

    What a wonderful closing statement!!!

    Thanks for sharing this with us Patricia – and Sean!!!

    Kathy | Virtual Impaxs last blog post..Is this a scam? Technically no… it’s great marketing.

  8. patricia Says:

    Many thanks for coming on by…it is a lovely piece is it not? I just had to share these stories from such talented writes too good not to share!

  9. Mark Says:

    Love this story, thanks for sharing!

    Marks last blog post..Un-Boxing Spirituality

  10. J.D. Meier Says:

    It’s a great story. Metaphors like sliding doors really punctuate the points.

    J.D. Meiers last blog post..Influencer – The Power to Change Anything

  11. Patricia Says:

    It was so fun to share these beautiful stories. Thank you for coming on by to enjoy them

    You are right on. Metaphors are like ice skates they just let us relax and glide right into the words – and memories!

    Patricias last blog post..There’s a place For Me