our last day in samoa. in a few hours we’ll be boarding another plane, this time to LA. we spend our remaining hours visiting the baha’i house of worship on the top of the hill. the rain pours down outside and the greenery happily drinks it up. lush takes on a whole new meaning in these islands. the ferns unfold their spindly fingers to catch every available droplet and i am awed by trees bursting with flowers so vibrant and saturated in color that you think at any moment they will turn into exotic birds and fly away.
inside the house of worship it is cool and quiet. just me and devon. our bodies tired from this four month adventure in the pacific, our minds racing on imminent and exciting projects, and our hearts full.
we sit side by side. my hair, wet from the downpour, sticks to the back of my neck. we hold hands and we sing a prayer. our voices bounce off the nine walls and fused together, they sing back to us. i used to be shy singing in front of dev. but i’m gaining confidence, and so i relax and sing out. and the rain drums the ground in unison with us, a delicate backtrack to our song.
i want to capture this feeling in every sinew and neuron contained in my body. i want to inscribe the details on my insides. i want to stash them carefully next to those other moments that are so perfect, and yet so fleeting, that you almost can’t believe they ever really happened.
the final note of our song hangs in the air hesitant to leave. i don’t want to go anywhere either. i slowly open my eyes and my breath catches. dev is holding a small, weathered, heart-shaped box in front of me. his eyes are shining. i open the box to find a ring fashioned out of a vintage button and wire sitting on tissue paper.
my tears take a cue from the rain and spill over freckled, damp cheeks.
the ring fits perfectly. of course it does.