real-harald-hardrada

[real-harald-hardrada]

A brief, true story.

Valentine's Day has never been anywhere near the top of my "favorite holidays" list. For starters, Halloween, Christmas, and St. Patrick's Day are far and away more fun. Also, Valentine's Day is in the dead of winter. It's an icy, frigid, hyperborean kind of weather. And this Valentine's Day was especially cold. It was the kind of cold that seeps through your skin, into your bones, and finally settles in your heart.

There is, perhaps unsurprisingly, another reason as to why I have never been enamored by this day of love. For eighteen consecutive years, I have spent Valentine's Day on my own. As pitiful as that is, I know I'm not alone. Innumerable people around the world go through the same disappointing rigmarole annually. It's an unfortunate circumstance, sure, but I guess it helps that despite my loneliness, I'm not alone in being alone.

Unfortunately, this Valentine's Day was a bit sadder than usual. It was getting to be nearly midnight, and I was working furiously in a cubicle practice room, because if I didn't submit this assignment there was a danger I would fail the class. Despite my fervor in my work, in the back of my mind, there was a hint of disheartenment. It had occurred to me that I was about to make it through this current Valentine's Day, alone again. I had to push this thought out of my mind, though, due to the work I had to complete.

After a few more minutes of zealous focus on this damn bibliography, I was finally done with the homework. Just in time as well, as right when I submitted the assignment, the clock on my phone blinked 12:00. I sighed, thinking how I had "won" again. Finished with my task, I was overwhelmed by an intense wave of exhaustion. I gathered up all my belongings, shut the light, and began my walk home.

The cold was more intense now. A violent wind, carrying the polar air like an army of huskies carrying a sled, sent chills down my spine as I bundled my self up as much as I could. My leather jacket was warm, but God help any patch of skin that was momentarily exposed, as it would freeze on the spot. The sky was entirely clear, and the moon was almost full. Beams of moonlight shot down from the heavens like spotlights, illuminating the earth as a spotlight illuminates a stage. One moonbeam, maybe one cast down by Artemis herself, shone of a garbage can, drawing my attention to it.

Laying just on top of the can was a pink rose. Out of curiosity, I walked over to the can to get a better look. The rose was frozen in perfection. The environment in which it had found itself was not exactly conducive to survival, let alone growth. I picked it up, and it was cold to the touch. The stem was a glacier, the thorns were icicles, the leaves and petals were snowflakes. After a moment's consideration, I decide to take this perfect rose with me. I put it in my inside pocket, where it just barely fit, and continued on my way.

How exciting this was! I had so many thoughts running through my head. It was the night after Valentine's day, and I was walking around with a rose that was frozen to perfection. Despite the ridiculousness with which I view it now, it all made so much sense in my head at the time. On my walk, I would bump into some girl, I'd give her the flower, and we'd fall in love on the spot. My Valentine's woes would be over at last! I could've danced, sung, shouted out for joy. I felt like I could fly!

I’ve always had an exceptionally active imagination, so in my head I planned out the "script" for the whole encounter:

"Excuse me!", I'd say, "Do you have a brief moment?" She'd pause, before coming closer to me to let me speak. I'd continue, "Sorry to bother you, especially in this cold. Also, what I'm about to say is going to sound ridiculous, so please don't laugh." "I was just walking back to my dorm, and on the way, I came across this flower." Here  would pull the flower out of my coat, and it would still be pristine. Her eyes would widen a bit, and then she would giggle, seeing where this was going. Then I'd say, "Now, I couldn't just leave something as beautiful flower to freeze in the cold, but I don't really have a good place to put it in my room. Any shot that you can take it off my hands?"

From here, she would take the flower, and we might embrace, kiss, hold hands, who could even say? It would be a perfect night, a lovely memory, and maybe even the start of a new relationship. It was so flawless in my head.

I continued my walk, all my senses alert to the slightest hint that someone was walking in my direction. My eyes scanned constantly, my ears perked at the slightest provocation, and if ever I felt the eyes of another on the back of my head, I would have whirled around faster than a tornado.

But I didn't run into anyone. Despite my vigilance, despite walking as slowly as I could, there was no girl that I would just bump into. I had reached the end of my walk, and there had been no magical moment. I was a bit sad, but also not exactly surprised. After all, it was a very cold night, and well after midnight. There probably weren't many people walking around at all, let alone any girl walking the same path I was.

I went into my building, a little miffed but not really upset. I unlocked my dorm room, dropped my bag on the ground, and took off my jacket, placing the rose on my bed. The rose was no longer frozen. The rose was alive. It had soft petals, verdant leaves, and a healthy stem. I held the flower in my hand for what felt like hours, staring at it, studying it, taking note of its innumerable little imperfections. I noticed that it had just started to droop a little bit. I took a water bottle I had lying around, filled it with fresh water, and placed it gingerly inside.

I've still got the rose safe in my room. I suppose this Valentine's day was alright.