Artwork by Lusy Galustyan

The last time I felt morose,
I was in the shopping
district looking for nothing
in particular. I had wondered
if a bad, long-term breakup
warranted new shoes or
an onyx necklace.

I came upon a flower cart
selling magnificent camellia
flowers. They smelled of
jasmine or anise. I decided,
in that moment, that a few
of these fresh, delightful,
white domes of life were
as good a purchase as a
new pocket watch.

As I paid for the camellias,
a girl asked to smell them,
hoping to wake up through
something aromatic rather
than chemical. She accompanied
me to coffee that evening,
a quaint suburb spot that
sold Cuban cappuccino.
We talked until close.

A month later, my favorite
camellia met its maker, where
no amount of sunshine or
water could turn its tide.
A call from the other room
sparked conversation on
the past, how simple things
become our biggest memories.
She said, sometimes it’s the
things that pop into your life
that bring you the most joy.
And we ate dinner together
on the patio out back.

—

Poem by Austin Julio

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