“No man ever wetted clay and then left it, as if there would be bricks by chance and fortune.”
~Plutarch
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 time line and place my pointer on the precise moment that brought it to me.
Writer Dad
Writer Dad can write as beautifully for you. Click here to hire the best ghostwriter on the net.
About Sean Platt
I’ve said it before and it comes to mind again after this – you remind me of me. Making that connection with people you’ve never met through your stories…that’s how you know you’re a good writer. And you are a great one. Thanks again -
Patricks last blog post..Playing for Change
I’ve said it before and it comes to mind again after this – you remind me of me. Making that connection with people you’ve never met through your stories…that’s how you know you’re a good writer. And you are a great one. Thanks again -
Patricks last blog post..Playing for Change
Michele: In eleven years, she’s never been mad at me. Disappointed a couple of times, but never mad. I will, however, keep this post quite handy.
Holly: That’s an exceedingly sweet compliment. Thanks.
J.D: I will indeedly do, J.D.
Zoe: Thanks. I hope it wiped the winter chill away. Except that you don’t have winter chill. Wait, I’m in California. Neither do I, I guess. : > )
Bamboo: My cup runneth over.
Maya: That’s a fantastic compliment for a writer – to know another felt it. Thanks.
Mishi: Thanks Mishi. Have fun in the archives, there’s some gems in there for sure.
Chris: Tell us more.
Trina: Thanks Trina. The moment beget many more.
Tim: An internet classic? WOW, that’s quite a compliment that I eagerly accept. Thanks!
Beth: The cool thing about that ending is that it takes place at another beginning.
Naomi: My absolute pleasure. Thanks for enjoying it all the way from Australia.
Writer Dad’s Mom: Love you too Mom. You shouldn’t have been reading my notes! That batch was cooked to perfection, no doubt about that. Hasta mañana.
BJ: The world would be a better place.
Kool Aid: I’m sorry I’ve neglected a response. I love your award and so does Cindy. We were on your site last night high fiving one another over your awesome taste in music. I’ll be by again later. Thanks.
Randi: Unfortunately Walmart has refused to carry my book without it being published, and I cannot get published without a publisher which I cannot get without an agent. All of them are on my 09 list though, so maybe in 2010. Thanks for all the compliments. I’m flattered that this piece went over so well.
Jamie: That’s so true, it’s worth saying twice.
Carla: Aw Carla, I didn’t mean to make you cry, but I was happy to share.
Patrick: You are always welcome. It is my pleasure.
Michele: In eleven years, she’s never been mad at me. Disappointed a couple of times, but never mad. I will, however, keep this post quite handy.
Holly: That’s an exceedingly sweet compliment. Thanks.
J.D: I will indeedly do, J.D.
Zoe: Thanks. I hope it wiped the winter chill away. Except that you don’t have winter chill. Wait, I’m in California. Neither do I, I guess. : > )
Bamboo: My cup runneth over.
Maya: That’s a fantastic compliment for a writer – to know another felt it. Thanks.
Mishi: Thanks Mishi. Have fun in the archives, there’s some gems in there for sure.
Chris: Tell us more.
Trina: Thanks Trina. The moment beget many more.
Tim: An internet classic? WOW, that’s quite a compliment that I eagerly accept. Thanks!
Beth: The cool thing about that ending is that it takes place at another beginning.
Naomi: My absolute pleasure. Thanks for enjoying it all the way from Australia.
Writer Dad’s Mom: Love you too Mom. You shouldn’t have been reading my notes! That batch was cooked to perfection, no doubt about that. Hasta mañana.
BJ: The world would be a better place.
Kool Aid: I’m sorry I’ve neglected a response. I love your award and so does Cindy. We were on your site last night high fiving one another over your awesome taste in music. I’ll be by again later. Thanks.
Randi: Unfortunately Walmart has refused to carry my book without it being published, and I cannot get published without a publisher which I cannot get without an agent. All of them are on my 09 list though, so maybe in 2010. Thanks for all the compliments. I’m flattered that this piece went over so well.
Jamie: That’s so true, it’s worth saying twice.
Carla: Aw Carla, I didn’t mean to make you cry, but I was happy to share.
Patrick: You are always welcome. It is my pleasure.
Dont worry, those were happy tears. :)
Carlas last blog post..Emperor “Clean Coal” has no clothes
Dont worry, those were happy tears. :)
Carlas last blog post..Emperor “Clean Coal” has no clothes
WD- I’m dying to know which music you and Cindy were high fiving because I have such a mix! Come on, help a girl out, will ya?
WD- I’m dying to know which music you and Cindy were high fiving because I have such a mix! Come on, help a girl out, will ya?
Hi Writer Dad – Beautiful, simply beautiful. Your story reminded me of when I read a book that’s a real page turner. And it has a happy ending. Can’t beat that.
This is a fabulous work of art. You are “Writer” Dad.
Barbara Swafford – Blogging Without A Blogs last blog post..When Your Truth Is Different Than Mine
Hi Writer Dad – Beautiful, simply beautiful. Your story reminded me of when I read a book that’s a real page turner. And it has a happy ending. Can’t beat that.
This is a fabulous work of art. You are “Writer” Dad.
Barbara Swafford – Blogging Without A Blogs last blog post..When Your Truth Is Different Than Mine
That is the most romantic real-life story I’ve heard in a long time. Do me a huge favor…If you ever write a big ol’ romantic/dramatic novel (but not the smutty stuff, the good make-you-cry-the-whole-way-through stuff), put me on your purchase list.
I had first heard about your blog in MenswithPens’ drive by shootings. I didn’t investigate then, and I’m really regretting it. I have repented my sins (signed up for RSS and the newsletter) and look forward to reading even more. I will certainly be spending more time digging through previous prose.
Angie Haggstroms last blog post..10 RSS Feeds And TwitterPeeps Freelance Writers Should Know About
That is the most romantic real-life story I’ve heard in a long time. Do me a huge favor…If you ever write a big ol’ romantic/dramatic novel (but not the smutty stuff, the good make-you-cry-the-whole-way-through stuff), put me on your purchase list.
I had first heard about your blog in MenswithPens’ drive by shootings. I didn’t investigate then, and I’m really regretting it. I have repented my sins (signed up for RSS and the newsletter) and look forward to reading even more. I will certainly be spending more time digging through previous prose.
Angie Haggstroms last blog post..10 RSS Feeds And TwitterPeeps Freelance Writers Should Know About
Wonderful story. I’m so glad it’s true.
Wonderful story. I’m so glad it’s true.
Wonderful story and beautifully written.
Wonderful story and beautifully written.
I just stumbled upon your blog and decided to pick this post as the first one to read. Wow, just wow. You write really well. The story is magical. I am definently going to subscribe to you. Keep writing.
Peace
I just stumbled upon your blog and decided to pick this post as the first one to read. Wow, just wow. You write really well. The story is magical. I am definently going to subscribe to you. Keep writing.
Peace