I had a hectic day at the office, battling my usual Monday blues. It was largely uneventful for a Monday, but I’ll take it, as I’m still getting over the fact that my mom’s back home now.
When I got home, I checked my mailbox and the concierge let me know that there was a delivery for me. For me! On a Monday! I could hardly imagine what it could be. The man at the desk – a very nice, older man whom I chat with every day – told me that it was a flower delivery, judging by the box. It must be from the boyfriend, I thought. And so I hastily bade him goodbye and got into my apartment and opened the box.
What was inside put a big smile to my face.
My boyfriend had sent me flowers. In our two years as a couple, I can count the number of flower bouquets he has given me with a single hand, so this is really special. As you might know, we’ve spent more than half a year living apart in different cities and we see each other just five days in a month, so to have any memory of him is precious to me.
As I was placing the flowers into a vase, I thought about our relationships and how we have different mother tongues (we both speak English though to each other and I sometimes speak a very limited vocabulary of his mother tongue). I thought about how we came to know each other, how we worked through our differences over the first year of us being together, and how we are enjoying our relationship after having to work hard at it every single day. I can’t be happier than I am to have found someone who is so patient with me and who knows me so well. Having said that though, and even though we come from different cultures, I think and truly believe that it doesn’t matter as long as you speak the same language of love. It may sound cliche, but I think it’s true, especially when I draw from my own past experiences. To find someone you truly love is incredibly difficult, and to find that someone who feels the same for you is better than winning the lottery.