She gracefully slid behind a few of the guests unnoticed and slipped through the fluttering sheer silk drapes to the terrace to catch her breath. And gather her thoughts. Immediately her liquid hazel green eyes glance upward searching the twilight sky for a trace of what was to come.
Hopeful, but not totally self-assured, she gazes deeply into the lavender horizon squinting as if that would help her see what was around the corner. In a few short months. But was transfixed at today. Unable to glimpse into what the immediate future might hold. Her heart skips a beat and a gentle lump forms in the base of her throat as her eyes fill with tears.
She manages to stop the flow by swallowing hard. Her mind's eye focused on a small tow headed boy smiling at the ducks wandering through the garden eating Ritz peanut butter crackers from his chubby hand.
It seemed as if it were the day after tomorrow. Her heart. Her joy. Her beloved son. He twin soul. Would gather his bags propelled by the loft beneath his wings and head overseas to commence his dream. Hong Kong. They had spoken of this possibility for several years. But here it was. Upon them. At summer's end.
Noble House. Tai Pan training with one of the early trading companies whose founders colonized the Chinese island in the early 19th century. A storied firm now spanning the globe conducting business across multiple industry sectors. A market leader. The utmost integrity guiding a principled trajectory. His dream. Her dream for him. Happening. Real. An achievement. The apex.
Her one wish is that this would be his noble house. His hearth. That it would challenge his intellect and inspire his path. She knows it will. This knowledge washes over her bringing a gentle inner peace. Her boy had become the man she envisioned over two decades ago in their Carnegie Hill apartment near the park. Cherished memories to fill a lifetime of dreams.
Cheers to my love. My darling son. Godspeed in a few months. With your mother's love, admiration and awe.
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Vodka. And don't give up the two wooden and wicker bed trays for lazy meals shared with, well, someone you may not be able to imagine but who certainly may exist. You're too young, too intelligent, too beautiful, too interesting, too adventurous to be unworthy of an elusive, perhaps, but a still plausable someone with whom to share a romantic breakfast in bed. They're hope and dreams and magic that need to be stored and restored, else surrender can poison the soul. Accept no compromise but neither forgive a dream that implies that you have somewhere done something wrong.
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