I met him with a luggageful of warnings. “He could be a psycho!” was my friends’ almost unanimous fear when I told them that I would meet the man I met online who happened to be from the other side of the world. After a year of extensive e-mails and expensive phonecalls, we agreed to finally meet in person. I would fly for 21 hours while he would drive 12 hours to get to our meeting place. To appease my friends (and the little scared voice within), I did check the information he gave me against those independently available online, memorized the emergency number (9-1-1!), and arranged to meet in my brother’s apartment in Delaware.
The hour of our meeting approached. It was on a snowy December night. I parked myself on the couch by the window overlooking the road. I jumped at the sight of passing headlights. A lot later than expected, a car parked in front of our door. The door was opened before the doorbell rang. Outside stood a handsome, clean-shaven youth, cold inside his grayish woolen sweater. “Where is your stuff?” I managed to squeak after I regained my breath.
We spent two weeks together during which time, I learned that he was definitely not a murderer but, to my tastebuds’ consternation, I also learned that he was quite adept at using leftover turkey (mostly as soggy turkey rice). Meanwhile, he learned that I could not cook to save myself and that I was shorter than he thought. He gave me a ring anyway.
warm inside binding cocoon
foreordained to fly
DVerse’s Haibun Monday: A Little Romance. Jump into the pub for some romantic takes.