I'm not sure I'll ever forget this moment.
The sun was setting. I'd walked into the house when the sky was an adventurous dark blue, the horizon a flaming orange. All sorts of awesome stories took place under the sky when it was this arrangement of colors. It was only chilly enough to where it would nip at you; a breeze would go by, and you'd wish you had a light hoodie.
My muscles were tired. I was about ready to curl up under my blanket and chill for the rest of the night, and now that I'd finished my to-do list for the day, I could do so.
But the star attraction in this moment was the finished product that sat before me: different pots of different flowers on the sill of my biggest window. Each pot had a slightly different composition of soil, based on research on what would make each flower thrive the best.
On the floor by this setup sat a bag of fertilizer and an unplugged plant lamp. Sun beamed in through this window at least once every other day, and often for a week at a time, but just incase there came a long stretch of cloudy weather, I didn't want to force the flowers to hold out.
I surveyed the setup with my eyes one more time. Each different kind of flower was in a different pot with its favorite soil... the window was open so that they could drink up every last drop of sunlight... fertilizer and a plant lamp were sitting at the ready... and the decorative paper that had been wrapped around the flowers was nicely folded in a nearby drawer, prepared for the day it would once again bring them together.
I then remembered why I'd gone through all this trouble. Dedicated an entire day to these flowers.
For a boy. I'd done all this because I loved a boy.
...Damn right, I loved him. And to prove it, I was going to love and nurture these flowers until I was ready to let him in on how I felt.