Coffee and a Parking Garage

Her soft smile broke my nerves, claiming my heart hostage for the moment. A moment that lasted much longer than I ever would have assumed. I wondered how real this could be? An awkward exchange of words over coffee that had melted into a lively discussion, a finely tuned exchange of self-revealing evidence. I was piecing her together with each new shred of information she shared.
A subtle pause in the conversation gave way to laughter, even my strange sense of humor found validity in her eyes. Her eyes where so striking, electric yellow carved around her pupils, brimmed by a soft culmination of shades of green. Her eyes exploded with passion like nothing I had ever seen before. I carefully noted the small features of her face and frame that made her so pleasant to look at, so welcoming to even the most hostile of strangers. And I wondered if she saw the same? If she to could see my positive features, and if they fascinated her in the same way hers fascinated me.
Small amounts of earth toned Coffee warmed their way to my stomach. Sending jolts of caffeine coursing through my veins, lacing my words with extra excitement and hurry.
“Because the parking garage is cool! I love being up there, and just looking out over everything.”
“Then let’s go!” her words where more than enough to bring us to our feet and out into the cool night air. As she drove the soft beat of familiar music held the background to our conversation. Her similarities in musical flare excited me. It was rare for me to find someone with similarly diverse taste in music as myself.
“This is my favorite song.” She turned the knob to the right as the guitar began to play. We sat in silence as I soaked in every element of the song. A soft simple acoustic guitar range out a catchy sad melody. The vocals came in after several chords, a deep soothing voice sang each word expressing such a deep pain with every verse. All the while I compared the song with what it said about her, that she had choose this song as her favorite. Pain of a past love was evident in my mind, but deeper than that it expressed simplicity and a vast emotionality in her personality, both of which later rang true. I wondered if she realized how hard my mind was working to understand every ounce of her. I hid it as well as I could. The song faded into its final chords, ending soft and full of emotion.
“I refuse to attach anyone to this song. I don’t want the memories of someone else to ruin such a beautiful song.” She spoke with her hands, despite the fact that she was driving. And I wondered how true those words really were. If she could truly abstain from attaching memories to a song.
“I think that’s part of what gives music its power, the emotionally charged memories our mind attaches to each verse.” And secretly, from that exact moment I wanted to be her memory for that song, but instead she became mine for that very song.
The night sky was suspended above our heads; stars glittered across the black void. The horizon crashed into a city scape dotted with lights almost mirroring the sky above. The edge of the parking structure gave way to thin air, and our feet danced above the street so far below. It was the perfect setting for our vibrant exchange of stories and thoughts. Each word that left her lips crashed into my ears with resounding force. Never had I paid such close attention to the subtlety of every word.
“Love lane? I would feel pretentious living on a street like that. Like I would in some way have to live up to the street name.” my jaded thoughts on love where already seeping into my words. I was sharing intimate thoughts at an accelerated rate.
“I don’t know, I just have a problem with the word love. It is too vague and people make assumptions.” I had successfully transition a conversation about a street name into a discussion about love, I was always one for awkward segues.
“I am always careful to express what my love means to others. I don’t just leave it at I love you.” I looked out over the city as she spoke, soaking in the scene as well as her words.
“I guess I am still trying to figure love out, and decide if it is even real or tangible.”
And then she said something I had never thought of before… “Love is different at different points in your life, you could have been in love at 14 and it was REAL love at the time, but as you grow as a person so does your love. You reach a higher level and learn to love more fully as you grow.”
Each word that night carefully crafted a unique and diverse friendship that night. Almost as if all the moments in our lives had steered us to that locations, at that point in time so that we could meet each other. Like our lives where meant to intersect for one reason or another. Everything was just to perfect that, or maybe the perfection lives only in my memories and it was nothing more than random occurrences and events. Regardless everyone you meet impacts your life, but every so often you meet someone who impacts it so profoundly you can’t help but think of the night you first spent with them. My night was spent with coffee and a parking garage, and my life will never be the same.