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This Phoenix Speaks

Seven years in the making, my first published book, This Phoenix Speaks , is now a reality. The tireless and tiring work invested to ma...

I Dream of Genie: Part Three

When I got home from that magical evening, I did what any young adult who lives at home would do. I raided the fridge, went to my bedroom, locked my door, turned on some music, journaled all about how this amazingly gorgeous in so many ways guy and I talked for hours, then laid awake thinking, wishing, and imagining how life might actually be different in a better way than ever before.

I was lying there awake for way too long, so when I finally crawled out of bed the next day, it was late. I'm thinking around noon time. And let me tell you—my head was hurting so badly. I talked and talked the night before without any thought of drinking anything, and I believe it was summertime. If my love/hate relationship guy and I had only broken up a couple times, I would better remember the season. Alas, it just isn't so. I do recall waking up hot and sweaty. Maybe that's proof enough that it was summer? Well, except we're talking about Las Vegas, so it could have been spring, summer, or fall . . . or maybe a warm winter's day (just kidding).

Back to the point. I woke up with a headache, equaling bad mood, nearly cancelling out the blissful evening I fell asleep to which caused the sweetest of dreams. In this state of aching head and sleepy eyes, I opened my door . . .

I forgot to tell you! My bedroom was a sort of apartment on the back of the house, providing me with my own front door. The only bad thing about this "apartment" was how it didn't have a bathroom or kitchen which forced me to go inside the house every once in awhile. I think my parents planned it that way on purpose. They knew they'd never see me again if I had plumbing out there.

. . . I opened my door and nearly tripped over something. My eyes were still not quite awake, but this event jolted my senses from head to toe. I sat there stunned for a minute with questions whirring through my now very much awake brain: Why was there a guitar by my door? Who could have put it there? How does this seem possible? Could it have been him? Was last night for real or what? Just as my thoughts began to iron out, I realized there was a note weaved between the guitar strings. It was a drawing of a genie with the words "Your wish is my command" scrawled on it.

Can we all just stop for a moment of ever loving silence for that?

Needless to say, I squealed out loud like a freak, read the note again, looked at the guitar, and recalled our conversation the night before. That smile from the previous night spread across my face until it was beaming out my eyes. I threw clothes on, freshened up my face and hair, and drove to his house to say thank you with words—at first—then with kisses. Amazing first kisses that I will never forget because it was all such a dream. My crush from when I was a sophomore in high school was actually, in real life, holding my face in his hands and kissing me.

...to be continued next week.

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