His Wild Flower

He looked down at her hands wrapped in his, their fingers twined together as they had been probably millions of times over the last 46 years. He still remembered the first time she had taken his hand all those years ago.

He had seen her at a festival, she stood out like a beacon in the midst of so many bodies dancing, singing and just having the time of their lives. She was different somehow. She stood in their midst, with them and yet apart, she glowed with and inner fire that no one else seemed to see. It was as if the fire was just for him and it drew him in.

She turned and saw him, it was like she knew exactly who he was. Her eyes lit up and a smile spread across her face as if to say, “It’s you! You finally found me!”

He had been stunned by that smile, felt it down to his soul and just like that, his heart belonged to her.

They had been inseparable ever since. Their hands intertwined more often than not, coming together again even after their fights which were maybe a bit more passionate than they should have been, ‘but that’s what you get when you fall in love with a passionate wildflower like her,’ he he had always said, a smile on his face as he remembered what it was like to make up after a fight with a passionate girl like her.

With his other hand, he traced her fingers laced in his. The skin was no longer supple, but clung to the bones, the veins more visible with age. They had been together a long time now. He felt like they were more like one person together than two separate people. He loved her with a depth that he hadn’t begun to imagine in his youth. A love that had grown tighter and stronger over the decades.

He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers. She turned and looked at him and her eyes lit up once again. Maybe the light was slightly more dim and the smile a bit less wide, but the spark was still there. He squeezed her hand in his and smiled, bringing her in for another sweet kiss.

 

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