It is Saturday evening today. I was heading somewhere and took a road to a place without realising that one shop would shake me to my core. Midway, I saw a flower shop, a place close to my accommodation, and suddenly I found myself overwhelmed by flashbacks. The noise around me faded, the surroundings blurred, and for a moment, I just couldn’t process what was happening.  
I was at that shop one evening. It was raining, and I was contemplating whether I should do what I was about to do or not. I was going to meet someone, and I had been told they had never received flowers. Suddenly, this tired soul of mine felt a strange familiarity, as if I had found someone who was like me and most importantly, I felt, Blossom, I’ve met you.

They said they loved white roses and lilies. I went to the shop three days early to make sure I could get exactly the flowers I wanted. I asked so many questions because I had to take a long flight, and the flowers had to reach the person that evening.

The day finally came. I left around eight and picked up the flowers. The shop owner carefully put everything together, arranging the bouquet in such a way that a small reservoir of water could sit at the bottom, keeping the lilies alive. Me being me, excited to give them to someone who felt like you, Blossom, I carried those flowers like they were my baby through the commute, through check-in, through the cramped seat of the flight and I made it.  
The flowers were perfect. They were blooming, opening up, and filling the air with their fragrance. I gave them the flowers. They loved them and I thought, maybe, Blossom, I’ve found you. Maybe my journey to find you is finally over but fate had different plans.

It was all a lie, the reactions, the words, the people. Everything shattered as though it had never existed in the first place.

I want to tell you, Blossom, that in my search for you, I’ve always brought flowers. Lilies, orchids, white roses, tulips… and a list I can no longer remember. I feel like fate has never been kind to us, Blossom. Maybe you were always meant to exist only in my imagination. I want to tell you, Blossom, that maybe the next time, even if I meet you, I will not bring flowers. Your likeness towards flowers and my instinct to bring them just to make you happy have somehow become a curse in my life. These flowers, and all those flights where I travelled uncomfortable, awake, and constantly alert just to keep them alive, have now started bringing back memories I wish I could forget. They trigger something in me a feeling that hunts me, consumes me, and leaves me hollow.  
I cannot imagine myself slipping into that state again, where the flashbacks take over, where everything around me suddenly falls silent, and the demon of emptiness feeds on that energy until there is nothing left of me.

I would say that the flower shop near me has become one of the most hated places in my world. I don’t want to look at that shop. I don’t want to take that road. I don’t even want to smell the fragrance of flowers anymore.

My desire to make you happy with every flower that exists in this world may never come true. My desire to build a small home where we love each other, where I cook for you, or where I annoy you into dancing while you complain about my terrible dance steps all of that may never happen.

My desire to have a baby girl like you, to take care of you when you are carrying our child, to feed you when you are tired, to wash your hair, to massage your feet and your head when your growing belly makes even the simplest things difficult for you all of that may never happen.

My desire to look at you and say, “You are my woman, my strongest woman,” may never be fulfilled. My desire to build a little home where the walls are filled with the laughter and giggles of all three of us may never become real.

The Flowers I Never Got to Give You....