Everyone’s complaining about how they didn’t have anyone for Valentine’s Day, and I’m just sitting here basking in the memory of it:
I woke up next to the beautiful Russian who had been staying with me for almost a week (and who will be moving to the city soon to take a job here), walked through a park with her to a car rental company, and then drove us to Tim Horton’s for breakfast.
We then took off down the highway (only getting lost for a little while) to Al Ain, an oasis town about two hours away, and spent the day running around the zoo. I bonded with an emu, she hid behind me from a wrathful camel and we established that goats are the frat boys of the animal kingdom. We spent more time with our shoes off than on.
After dinner, ice cream and watching peasants ice skate at the mall, we headed up a mountain to watch the sunset, and then found a deserted lookout at the top to watch the city lights spread out below us and hold each other tight.
We hurried home, and while she packed for her flight in morning I lit the candles that had been hanging idle on my wall for a year. I sang softly in her ear as she drifted off to sleep.
And now she’s back at her home, awaiting the paperwork that will give her an office in the skies, and I’m sitting here looking at the dress she left hanging on my wall and wondering what I did to deserve her.