Seeing the bubble-gum pink petals circle around my ankles in the light breeze reminded me of Japan – and you.
I’d felt lost, I turned to a place I’d dreamed of going for as long as I could remember. My mundane nine to five had been testing me and truly pushing me to my limits. So I quit. The repercussions could wait.
Day four of my trip; we took the same garden tour in Kyoto. I noticed you wielding a pencil and an artist’s pad, sketching with a sense of pride at the beauty that stood before you.
I couldn’t help but stare, drinking you in just as much as the scenery. In an area of vibrant pinks and burnt oranges, you were the brightest feature.
On the journey to the next stop in the tour, we talked, soon realising that we had a lot in common and were both here soul searching, trying to find another purpose rather than just crunching numbers or sending mind-numbing e-mails.
The rest of the tour sped past us as we laughed and enjoyed each other’s company over the day; dragging it out to dinner, then drinks, finally indulging in one another back at the minute apartment he was renting for his stay. Out of character for us both apparently, I believed him.
I smiled, recalling waking up next to him, wishing I would get the chance to see his wide smile and hazel eyes, to run a hand over his caramel skin; even to kiss his lips just once more.
We’d agreed – two weeks. The token holiday, or how he’d put it, ‘vacation’ romance; I couldn’t agree on not thinking about him, not that that request had escaped his lips.
The fallen blossom at my feet back here at home, reminded me of what I wanted and what I was grateful for – escapism. I felt grateful that every year without fail, my memories would also bloom in the reminiscence of you.
(Image by yours truly. The blossom at the bottom of my garden inspired today’s tale.)
Victoria Pheasey 