Every day, I walk past a kalachuchi tree. Sometimes, flowers fall from it right in front of me, and if one is close to perfect, I pick it up — not just because it looks perfect, but because it reminds me of her.

I always thought about how pretty and perfect the flower was — just like her. I'd think about the timing, how the tree seemed to let it fall right in front of me, as if it was waiting for me to pick it up. It felt the same with her; she was already there, falling into my arms, and I was just there to catch her and ask her out. Looking back, God really did have perfect timing for both of us.

I picked them up happily for a year, but then suddenly I grew tired of picking up flowers, even the perfect ones. I don't know what happened, but coincidentally, after that, no flowers fell in front of me anymore.

I stopped picking them up, but a part of me still waits for the day another one falls in front of me.

-C.