The Orphan I Am Chronicles- 28

I have been feeling a bit restless lately. When I do feel like this it usually means a change is coming. I hope maybe a change that will present an opportunity to move, to live in an exotic place or perhaps o somewhere in Europe, or maybe even Prague. Okay, maybe it’s a stretch, but it could happen. Perhaps then, I will have met the woman of my dreams, a true soul mate, a woman who is as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside.

I’m enjoying an ice coffee while taking a break from working on one of my scripts. As promised, I at least want to write a blog 2-3 times a week. So at this point in the day, I will imagine for a moment or two that I am living in Prague, a beautiful place of the most awe aspiring architecture. I picture myself sitting near an open window. On this day, I mean early evening, I see people walk by, certainly not in any rush, but all seem to just stroll on by. Couples walking hand in hand, a child running along a few feet behind. A occasional car with its music escaping its windows, nothing ear shattering but a melody just right to accompany the sunset and the transformation from a workday into a beginning of the most tranquil of atmospheres, a warm nightlife.

Just as a street lamp lit, she walks by. Her stride is poetic, she wears a dress a few inches above the knee. She wears no slip beneath it because I can easily see the shape of her body. Her hair falls just near her lower back and her nails are long. She removes her shades and tucks them in her handbag as a car drives past,  a young boy whistles at her. She doesn’t even acknowledge this most common distraction that she must encounter  throughout her day. But as she nears the midpoint of my window just below, something happens.

A sudden but mild breeze toys with my paper, a single sheet floats out and downward, just in the area if front of where she may walk. Surely she will not see it, this mere piece of whiteness with so few words written on it? But as she moves closer, her head which was so focused just seconds before on the path ahead, she now looks down. She slows, pauses then slowly bends and retrieves what was mine off the ancient sidewalk and begins to read the few words on it as she so elegantly stands erect.

As she glances over the words, her face which bore the look of curiosity, now displays a most slight yet pretty smile. She hesitates then turns her head sideways then she focuses her search amongst the sidewalk cafe’s tables then her gaze now is concentrated on the building itself, my building. My heart quickens, my hand clutching my pen, I dare not move a single inch. Then as if all the planets have aligned in a special way just to invoke this single and most beautiful moment, her eyes move upwards and her face finds my face, my eyes studying her’s.

She smiles again, she raises the paper up and nods slightly, she need not ask anything, her eyes ask if the words she held in her hand happen to be mine? I nod the slightest nod and with that she folds the paper in front of me and tucks it inside her handbag. My heart now pounding, my hands shaking, I try to clear my throat. I want so bad to say something, to say anything that may keep this moment alive for just a few seconds more, but the words for the moment eluded me.

Then she did something I most certainly did not expect, instead of continuing on her walk ahead, she now turns to the right, finds a table which was just off the sidewalk and already was illuminated by a candle the waiter lit. As she sat and corrected her dress she again looks my way, this time her eyes were inviting, her foot pushes a chair slightly away from the small circular mosaic table. Without hesitation, I composed myself the best I could and quickly begin towards the door, down the small winding stairs and exited the door just besides the small cafe.

As I walked towards her, I gathered myself and paused to take it all in, to inhale the aroma of the early evening around me, to savor the moment, to allow myself to be myself while not knowing what to expect at the table before me. As I walked up, I reach out my hand, “My name is Tony and you are?”

She looks at me and replies, as she does I know that all is good, I know that no matter what happens here, in this moment that time will cease to be important, that as that small candle on the table burns through out the night, as we laugh and listen to each other talk, that life itself does not end in a day but extends into the night.

Advertisements

~ by tonekinchloe on May 2, 2012.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

 
witchlike

Exploring wise-craft and weirdness

Adventures of The Nude Writer

Living And Loving In My Naked Little World

Words Read and Written

Ramblings of an aspiring author & book blogger

Shannon A Thompson

You need the world, and the world needs good people.

Beyond Compromise - الثَّوابِت

Resistance Until Liberation & Return

S. Laura Artworks

My art is the child of my imagination!

lorellepage

Reader-to-Writer

Jamie Krug

I am the luckiest woman, mom, and wife in the world. Or am I the unluckiest...? It really depends on the day.

Venezia.

Not a writer.

A Holistic Journey

Finding my way back out of motherhood -- while mothering

Art Attack

Discovering art in everything

Words of Margaux

Humor and Motivation for Writers and Other Dreamers

A Stairway To Fashion

contact: ralucastoica23@gmail.com

toemail

Pictures of toes, pictures of feet, making the world a better place, one foot at a time.

%d bloggers like this: