jeanine

She was a quiet girl. Polite, earnest, forthright, and she always did the right thing.

Like the desert bloom that arrives each and every day, she put forth her magnificence but no one saw; at least not in the way that she wanted them to. She didn't complain and blamed no one for that was the way she had always heard it should be.

Tending to matters that demanded her and watering others with her kindness, she lived her days as she had been told because that was the way she had always heard it should be. Not often, too rare, and seen by too few eyes; sometimes (sometimes), she would give a smile and when in favor, and so undeserving (I felt), she would give one to me. I savored each deep far down inside, where no one else goes, for locked there, forever, was this girl, this precious soul that others oft ignored. So smart, so wise, with beauty that only a special prince could see. She waited, with discernment for this girl could not, would not, settle and she did not complain. Still, she did the right thing for that was the way she had always heard it should be.

The very finest apple of her parents eyes and one that the villagers could find no fault with, for there was none. Despite the risks and the prying eyes, she did not bury her head in the granules of sand like the long necked bird. She befriended one so lost and searching for the road to take, allowing the odd boy to put forth his chest with strength and pride. Why? Because that was the way she had always heard it should be?

No.

What she did not know was that the odd one had seen her for what she was; he had picked her.

Days passed still. She sat on the stoop of her life and looked up into the sky; the clouds passed by each day and none looked down upon her. Foolish eyes passed her by and stared ahead at the black asphalt and the straight lines upon it; in awe they were of the vista of creation that lay beside them and clamored for its attention. So close yet unseen. Bitterness could have taken her away and she might have become one of the lost and lonely, censorious, with thousands of cats running to and fro, with razor sharp incisors for all that came her way. But no, not this girl for she was too exquisite, like a diamond lying inside its rocky resting place.

Somewhere else, he walked down the road of his own life; where he looked to go, or be, or see, is unknown to me. What kind of life he had lived or the sort of boy he had been was not in my mind. I knew him not. One day and why I do not know (maybe a piece of colored paper blew across his path or his heart skipped a beat, just one), he looked in the direction where she waited. Still upon the branch, succulent, and as sweet as the honey in the hive, undisturbed, was she. Mesmerized, he did not turn away but put out his hand and gently cupped her tender petals inside his palm. Drawing her scent into his nostrils, he was taken away into a world where he had not gone before but had, somehow, known was there, all along. He could not believe his good fortune and knew she must be is. Picking her then, they became one.

I, the odd one, smiled from my world, so far away, always having known her destiny. I had seen the prince arrive and had feared that once done that I would be forgotten. Maybe so and though I miss her, I can do nothing but hope that every day is the best one, for her. Now ensconced in paradise, where bright colors and eternal brightness are hers, she smiles all the more often. But where else would a planet bound angel reside but heaven on earth? Because dreams do come true. I knew that I, alone, had shared a part of her that no one else would ever see and she had finally found her reward, her just deserves.