Sentiments

"My father always told me- that if something was ever in the heart, be willing to let it part", her voice softened. “Even though it’s been years since my mother passed, I know he still thinks about her.” She picked off the segments piece by piece. A scene of seeds dispersing among a gentle breeze. He entered the conversation from beside her.

As she spoke he listened to what she had to say, not thinking of something else to say, or distracted by something else going on. He was there, an undivided attention only on her.

"I never really looked into your eyes before. Pretty... like your name. How did you get it?"

"My father liked nature and flower names and had a few picked out for me. My mother was open to ideas..."

"She said this was the perfect name, when she first held me..."

There was a silence as she averted her thoughts. She chuckled and as she wiped beneath the bottom of her eyes, he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I'm sure she knows... it is as beautiful as the daughter she had grown to become."

It wasn't normal for her to feel vulnerable. But for some strange reason, it was comfortable. As lips may touch, sounds interlacing, a downpour interrupted them. Sounds of her laughter echoing as they ran across the woods in the pouring rain, splashes against splashes of running footsteps. Muddy tracks of soil left in the escapade. Carefree in mess, drenched clothes, the grimy shoes, returning back under the roof of enclosure.