Guys, I Found Love in a Flower Shop…

It happened in a floral shop, between a dim sum restaurant and a tailor in Central, Hong Kong, cities away from the academic offices in Wong Chuk Hang, and the sweet village of Yuen Long where I once lived.

There, surrounded by buckets of roses, calla lilies and bunches of baby’s breath, I learned a new language of love.

The orange rose hung from my apron, its broken stem being evidence of imperfection and fragility made beautiful. I was a little heartbroken, when it snapped, at first—this particular bloom was for "Golden Hour"… One of my absolute favorite bouquets in the shop, made up of the most captivating mix of yellow, orange and gold florals. (https://www.loverflorals.com/)

I gently put it in my apron pocket, where it stood against the fabric, sometimes its head swaying gently as I moved between the buckets of stems; It turned my workspace into something that felt impossibly and deeply romantic.

That day will be recorded as one of the happiest days of my life, though I didn't realize it until Luccio Dalla began singing through the air as my fingers, now intimate with thorns. This life and my job and everything around me is more than anything I’ve ever dreamed. I feel grateful that there is no other place or time I would rather be living in right now.

"Here," Emma said, passing me gloves and an adorable florist’s apron that made me feel like I had quantum leaped into a dream that had been sleeping in my heart without even knowing it…

As I began dividing roses into holders like sorting the running thoughts in my mind, I discovered something that had been waiting for me all along. The thorns required attention, demanded presence. Each one I removed created something safe for someone else to hold and enjoy. My world became romantic in a way that had nothing to do with being loved or desired by another person.

The warmth that filled my heart defied explanation. This feeling, which I could only call true romance, was present without the anxiety that typically accompanies sometimes. No wondering if I was too much or too little, no calculating whether my affection was balanced or if I should pull back to maintain some imagined or false equality and no games. Just the pleasure of doing something beautiful with my hands while my favorite playlist wrapped itself around me.