It was not until you told me you were going to get me flowers for Valentine's Day that I realized I don't have a vase big enough for the flowers.
A dizzying flashback to a not so subtle message I sent you on Snapchat basically giving you instructions for what flowers you should or could get me-- and I realized right then that I have not prepared myself for the fact that you are the kind of man that would actually do it.
That is to say I was never prepared for this kind of love.
I was told to search for this kind of love but to never expect it.
My mom taught me to settle, whether or not she meant to-- my mom told me to lower my expectations and she meant it.
With so many conflicting messages can we even be surprised that I didn't know how to prepare or what to expect?
I don't have a vase big enough for the flowers-- that is to say I do not have enough space in this body to contain all of the love you shower over me.
If to ditch my shell and find a larger one means I have space for more of you, then sign me up for forever.
Who needs a vase when you have a garden?
When I think about "The Secret Garden," it shakes me to my core. Because I was a locked, ivy-hidden door with sadness, death, and decay behind it.
You found my key, walked inside, and though what you saw was putrid and unkempt, you still saw boundless beauty and life and you helped cultivate growth in a space that seemed lost in time.
I don't even care if you've ever read "The Secret Garden" because you can just say you lived it.
And when our future children ask us about our love story, we will read them that story and take them out to our garden and show them what it looks like to work hard for something good to grow.
We will teach them to treat people as tenderly and diligently as flowers, so that they learn to celebrate and stand in awe when growth comes.
I don't have a vase big enough for the flowers, but I will immortalize the petals between precious pages so I will never forget a second with you. Because why would I want to?