For those following the Archives, you may recall that last week I was watching the mystery buds of the Plumeria tree. These are the first, since the Bohemian and I planted it a year ago, and our family has been curious to see the color of the blooms.
It’s the first and only tree we’ve planted at our abode, so far. And being that its roots are surrounded by the remnants of the leis we wore at our wedding, it has a special significance to us.
We’ve been excited to see the budding, and eagerly observing the unfoldment of the flowers as they reveal their hue.
And now here they are, full bloom.
If you ask the Bohemian about the day we met (that fateful day at the beach, when I walked passed him on the sand), he’ll say that he saw pink. That as he watched me pass, his eyes following behind me, the air, above and around me, turned a surrealistic shade of blush. He felt a supernatural presence, and he made a wish. (Which came true, as I am now his wife).
In relaying the story to a friend recently, he put it simply. “Love is pink.”
The way that the paths of the Bohemian and I have intersected, has been a beautiful mystery. I don’t need to have it all unveiled.
Now, with our first tree revealing the secrets of its blooms, I say to the Bohemian, “Well, now we know the color…”
“Yes,” he says with a smile. “Love is pink, right?”