dear maura,
today i was reminded of your eyes.
sunlight seeped through the blinds of my apartment window and pooled on my maroon comforter.
an hour has passed since dawn before it shone in my face.
i rubbed my eyes and squinted in annoyance. Minneapolis, the wonderful city of endless sunshine and stars. yet, it never grants its residents an adequate night's sleep.
my feet met with the carpeted floor as i stepped to the glass niche.
i cast away the slider and allowed the early morning breeze to flow through the room.
deep scents of pine and wildflowers filled my lungs as i ingested the forest air.
my tired eyes scanned the surroundings, awakening with every wonder i saw.
a sparkling creek lazily dripped down the tumbling hills, trees of all kinds quivered in the gentle wind, and flying insects rode along the breezy current hoping to seek warm shelter for the upcoming winter.
that's when i saw it.
a Mulgedium pulchellum; the showy blue lettuce.
yes, yes, i am aware of its ridiculous name, but i saw you in its blossom.
the way it stood tall and strong, just as your eyes did during your time of sorrow.
the way it wiggled like your eyes did whenever a humorous event occurred.
the way it closed at a frosty touch similar to your eyes as you reminisced about a cold and expunge-worthy memory.
i couldn't glance away, for it was like looking back into your own gaze.
i dashed out the door, not bothering to slide shoes on, and gathered that flower carefully into a vase. i couldn't let it die, not like i did with you.
i sat the vase carefully on my nightstand, checking to see it had access to sunlight.
a little pebble i had also carried lay next to it.
those two things symbolized you.
you were my rock and my wildflower.
love, luke
