My Dream Man

I meet him at a convention. Just a few months earlier I had decided to create art for his company which works for charity, helping children. I’m standing and talking to people when he introduces himself to me. He is tall, thin and his limbs are long. He is pale and has short dirty blonde hair. He is wearing jeans, a white t-shirt and a black suit jacket, and I think to myself that he certainly is hopeless when it comes to clothes. I shake his hand and give him a shy smile before I look down. People are talking and laughing around us, I feel uncomfortable with all the people around me. I excuse myself and try to keep to myself the rest of the day. I watch him interact with people, and find myself envying his friendly and genuine nature. Suddenly he looks at me and smiles.
He wants to discuss my paintings after the convention and asks me for a walk. The sky is grey, and the wind is blowing. We walk along the beach. He says his grandparents are his idol, and then he suddenly leans over and smiles before he whispers that I shouldn’t tell anyone but he is an expert when it comes to plants. That he can plant any type of vegetables and fruit and make it grow perfectly, that he got it from his grandmother. He then tells me she also taught him how to play the piano and to respect and take care of the nature around us. While his grandfather taught him to love books, and to respect people no matter race and religion. He is a single child, he never met his father and his mother died of drug abuse when he was young and that he was raised by his grandparents.
I tell him I come from war horded country and that I have moved around a lot. That I have no contact with my family, and that I’m an author and an artist. That I have learned a lot from my past, that I am stronger than ever, that I’m doing what I love.
His hands are big and bony and he moves them a lot when he talks. He loves children and sometimes shakes his head in fascination when talks about the amazing stories he gets to hear. His head bends thoughtfully to the side when he listens.
 We talk about our lives, our past, our jobs; we talk about everything and nothing. We sometimes glance at each other with mutual admiration, respect and attraction.
It begins raining. Small single drops. We stop and look at the sky. He tells me a storm is on the way, I tell him I love storms.  We share our first kiss as the rain caresses us.
 
A year later we live together. I wake up every day to the man of my dreams. He has freckles on his back and shoulders. He smells ocean and fresh air. His eyes are hazel, he wears glasses when he reads, he doesn’t eat meat, and he has a heart of gold. He genuinely cares about everyone. He is intelligent, unselfish, unmaterialistic and Irish.  
His passion is his work. Helping others and change the world for the better. Sometimes he comes home exhausted and I give him a massage while I kiss his unshaved cheeks. His freckles. His hair. Just shower every inch of him with kisses.
Our garden is on the veranda, full of berries and vegetables. It smells heavenly.  
We sleep with the window open and in each other’s arms while the moon shines on us.  We whisper secrets and stories, we share memories and scars. Two hearts, two souls, we merge.
When we wake up early in the morning, when we are having breakfast, when we are standing in the middle of a crowd, when we are making love, when are sitting in the car - he pauses life just by giving me that special look which says I love you, and I’m glad to have you in my life. That look as if we share this amazing secret that no one knows. That look which reminds us why we do the things we do, why we love each other, and why we will be there for one another. 

A couple years later we adopt a child. A child that has suffered abuse, a child with broken dreams, a lost child. He teaches the child to create magic by playing the piano. To create life by growing plants. I teach the child to create the most delightful things with a simple brush. To write down his dreams on a piece of paper. To enjoy and appreciate the knowledge books can offer. Together we teach him that one can be good, that one can make it despite what you have been through. 

AviatorHH AviatorHH
18-21, F
1 Response May 22, 2012

easily 15 or 16 things there... hope it happens soon. XOXO