Museum of souls

What a beautiful day to have off! It's a good day to take a stroll, something I don't often get to enjoy. I was walking down the city streets of downtown Charleston, South Carolina with nowhere in particular to go when I stumbled across the International African American Museum. I had been hearing about this place often but had yet to visit. The rectangular building was surrounded by bright green grass, palm trees, and had a sidewalk on either side. It looked very inviting.

I take a step inside and am awed by the photographs and rich history displayed within the museum. The spacious entrance hall was adorned with striking exhibits, showcasing the beauty of African Americans throughout the years. It felt as if I had stepped into a different world, one filled with stories and legacies waiting to be discovered.

As I roam through the halls admiring the artwork, I catch a glimpse of someone who seemingly is just as encapsulated as I am in the art in front of us. I smile to myself, thankful that I am not the only one who is excited as I am looking at the history of our culture.  I tried not to turn to look at him, nervous that if I did, I might not be able to turn away. 

As I try to keep my focus, my curiosity gets the better of me and I can't resist stealing a glance at the mysterious man in the room. He's tall, dark, handsome, and well-dressed, just as I feared. He, himself was a work of art and I am mesmerized by the sight of him. His gaze is fixed on a black-and-white picture that depicts a man playing jazz on a piano. There's an intense passion that radiates from his presence, and I can't help but feel drawn to him.

"Unable to resist any longer, I approach him cautiously. I stand next to him, pretending to be interested in the same photo he is looking at. After a moment, I say softly and nervously, not wanting to disrupt the sanctity of the moment, "Excuse me, I saw this photo while I was standing over there." I point to a photo of women in color. "I was drawn to it. What do you think of it?"

He turns to face me, surprise evident in his eyes. "Oh, I... I think it's incredibly powerful," he stammers, before composing himself.

"I had the same thought. I'm sorry to interrupt your moment, but I wanted to ask if it was only me who was so impressed by the photos they took," I said before slowly stepping back to give him some space to continue enjoying the moment.

Before I could completely walk away, he turned and walked towards me and extended his hand. "I'm Elijah."

I take his hand with a smile, feeling an electrical spark between us. "I'm Amelia. It's a pleasure to meet you. Is this your first time at this museum?"

"Yes, actually," Elijah replies. "I've been meaning to visit for quite some time, and today seemed like the perfect opportunity. And I must say, it has exceeded my expectations."

I nod, my smile widening, even though I tried hard to contain it. "I completely agree. There's just something about the way they seemed to capture the history here. It's truly amazing to see it in person."

As we continued our conversation, I began to realize that Elijah and I share more than just our love for art and history. We both have a deep appreciation for African American heritage and a passion for art in all its forms. The more we talked, the more we found ourselves engrossed in deeper conversations, our voices filled with enthusiasm and understanding as we shared our life experiences and discussed the things that drew us to love art.

Before I knew what was happening, he and I were walking through the museum together, creating stories for each photo we passed. We exchanged our opinions and ideas of what it was like in those times and for our ancestors. Laughing and enjoying each other’s company, the connection I felt between us grew stronger with every passing moment. It's as if I had known him for more than just an hour, it felt more like a lifetime.

We eventually reached the end of what the museum had to offer. I felt a pang of sadness, not wanting the time with him to end just yet. I was hoping he felt the same. As we were walking towards the exit to leave, Elijah turned to me, his eyes shining with unspoken words. It was as if he felt the same as I did. 

"You know, today was meant to be a day of leisure for me. A day to simply take a stroll and enjoy a day off without distractions. But it turned out to be so much more. And I'm glad I stumbled upon this museum. And even happier to have stumbled upon you." I couldn’t believe I just said that. But it was out in the open now. 

Elijah smiled, then let out what appeared to be a sigh of relief. "I feel the same way, Amelia. Meeting you was unexpected, but it has been the highlight of my day. Aside from the Museum of course." We laugh and then turn to make our way out of the museum.  

This couldn’t have been a coincidence. This had to be fate guiding us towards each other. Yet, as we stepped out into the warm Charleston sunlight, we said our goodbyes and turned to walk away. As I started my once again walk to nowhere, I heard feet running up behind me. I turned around to see Elijah, his face flushed with determination.

"Amelia, wait!" he called out, breathless. "I can't let this moment slip away. I don't want to say goodbye just yet."

My heart skipped a beat at his words. Surprised, but happy that he too felt the same reluctance to part ways. A rush of emotions flooded over me as I watched him approach, unsure of what was to come next.

He reached his hand out to take mine. "I know we only just met, but there's something about you that feels so familiar, so right," he admitted. "It's like our souls have been intertwined for ages, and I can't walk away from that."

His words bore deep within me. It felt like I had known him my whole life like our paths were destined to cross. I nodded my voice barely a whisper. "I feel it too, Elijah. I've never felt a connection like this before."

With that, we both knew in our hearts that we couldn't let this moment pass us by. Fate had brought us together, and it was up to us how we responded to it. We shared a long, intense gaze, our eyes reflecting the same desire for something more.

"Would you like to continue this conversation somewhere, perhaps over a cup of coffee?" Elijah asked, his voice filled with hope and a smile on his face.

A smile spread across my face as I nodded. "I would love to. I happen to know the perfect little coffee shop nearby."

Elijah's entire face lit up, he grabbed my hand and we set off for the cozy coffee shop nearby. As we walked side by side, our fingers sharing electrical jolts, we continued our conversation from where we left off in the museum. It felt so natural and effortless, like finding a missing piece of myself. Inside, I am elated that we didn’t let the day end outside that museum.

We stepped into the coffee shop, the smell of freshly brewed coffee enveloping us as we found a secluded corner. Over steaming cups of coffee, we delved deeper into our shared love for African American heritage, discussing artists, writers, and musicians who had shaped the cultural landscape. We laughed and shared stories about our past, and present, and what each of us wanted for our future. We were basking in the joy and excitement of discovering someone who understood our passions completely. Elijah's eyes would light up anytime I spoke of my artwork, and I couldn't help but feel encouraged and inspired by his unwavering support.

This went on for hours. Those hours turned into days. Those days turned into weeks and then into years. That beautiful day off became the start of a beautiful love story, woven within the walls of the International African American Museum, forever bound by the threads of our shared heritage and love of art. The world around me became a little brighter, a little richer, knowing that I had crossed paths with the other half of my soul on that fateful day in Charleston.