Jake Haggmark + Keelan Hanks
Intersecting Lines and Incidents


    It was a Tuesday. It could have been any Tuesday, but this one was memorable. I was still on east coast time, so I woke up earlier than usual. With the extra time I decided to make breakfast but forgot to turn the burner on. 12 minutes later with cold water and cold eggs I gave up and walked outside.

    It was cloudy and a little chilly, but I didn’t think anything of it. I headed for a coffee shop, maybe I’d get a bagel. There was construction on 2nd Street so I had to take the long way around. When I got there, the shop was closed. The manager was outside, he said the street work caused a water main break and he had to close. He apologized and handed me a coupon for a free coffee at his other location a few blocks away. There’s no great way to walk there but I had time to kill.


    It was getting windier as I approached the store. A gentleman’s hat blew off. I spent a few minutes helping him chase it down. After the item was secured the Coffee line had grown out the door. Still ahead of schedule I stood in line, periodically stepping forward. I was 2 patrons from the door when a group of 3 friends joined the fellow in front of me. A gust of wind ruffled my sweater and it started to rain. Screw this, I thought, I don’t even want this free coffee, it was for a friend.
 
    Coffee-less, bagel-less, umbrella-less, I hurried to the closest metro station. “No west bound trains 10/24 this station” a sign read. I wasn’t going far but I wasn’t prepared for this amount of water. The news stand was selling umbrellas for $3 yesterday, and $10 today. I bought a yellow one and continued on.

  On days like this I often cut through familiar lobbies to reduce my rain exposure. But this route was new, and I wasn’t sure if I’d make it out the other side. I entered anyway, and it couldn’t have been a better decision. That’s where we met. Inside the lobby of 10 North Chambers Ave. I looked at you, you looked at me. I know you saw me because I dropped my umbrella on you. I’m not sure if it was an accident. Then I asked “Do you have a map? I keep getting lost in your eyes.”

    But the point is: if any one thing had happened differently that morning, just one of them, we wouldn’t have crossed paths. I call that fate and I hope it didn’t hurt too bad when you fell from heaven.  But seriously, I’m sorry I got your legs wet.

    For the record though, this wasn’t the only time we’ve met. It was magical, but we’ve had many wonderful moments. Like that time in Winter Park, where I saw you all over the mountain. You have a quiet, graceful confidence strutting around the cold snowy hill that keeps my little heat island warm. It’s not like I’m following you around. We just keep attending the same events, visiting the same places, and gracing the same cities. Sure, sometimes I try to make it happen. As I said above, when I found you on a Tuesday, it’s better when it’s natural.    


    We’ve been together many times. I’ve had the pleasure to watch you swim at the Edge Pool. All of your curves hug the fluid water around you. Your body moves freely, yet purposefully and controlled. I sit there with my toes in the water, and watch. Even the wildest of storms couldn’t take away your beauty. Before you dried your face, I had to wonder, was it rain water? was it pool water? was it a tear? Because you desperately wanted me to sweep you off your feet. I assume the latter.
    We’re never far from each other and it still amazes me the places I’ll find you. Remember all that sand you used to halfway bury yourself? It must have been 4 or 5 years ago. You were wearing a white hat with sunscreen on your nose. I was using some garbage I found to build a sand castle. And in the center, I tried to make a figure look like you. It was far too hot to be outside, yet there we stood, facing each other with our feet in the same sand, on the same day. Just the two of us, together. It was already sunny, but your smile brightened my day.

    You look your best when your shirt matches your shoes. I doubt many other people notice your attention to detail. I love your sophisticated color palette, elegant forms, and tied shoes. You know, so you don’t trip and fall for someone else. Please keep those tied tight.


    We’ll meet again, I already know that. As you keep getting older, others will forget your purpose, your history, and your sex appeal. It keeps growing stronger for me. You must be tired from running through my mind every day (maybe that’s how you stay in shape). 
    There will be a day, years from now, where I find you, cold, alone, but happy. You’re always so happy. I’ll walk up to you, slowly, without taking my eyes off you. There will be a tulip in my left hand, nothing in my right. So I can do things, like open doors, but more importantly to gently slide my somewhat sweaty palm across your lower back, feeling every little dimple. They’ll be a few hot air balloons above, with bubble machines. Every bubble reflecting a little of your radiant sunshine. The sound of a nearby waterfall will make it hard for you to hear me say “if I had a garden, I’d put your tulips and my tulips together.”

I hope you read this, so you’ll be ready.


    I don’t have to tell you this, not because you already know, but because you don’t need to know. You’re beautiful inside and out. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and I’ll be there. To watch the world pass by you and your solid, steady indifference to all the ugliness around you.