Friday, April 25, 2014

wait for me

You told me once you couldn’t do this without me. Sometimes I think about what it would be like without me here, without this relationship in front of us, trying to untangle the good from the bad, the me from the you. I sit here and stare into those blue eyes of yours getting pulled from whatever we are chatting about into visions of the sea, until I blink, and am pulled right back to this present moment; I smile up at you because you’ve always been so much taller than I am. And you squeeze my hand.

According to one life plan I wasn’t supposed to be here, where I am standing looking at you. Life was supposed to have something else in store, but then I took a chance and challenged myself again to face some personal fears. And God must have smiled on that decision because with that I got you. With you came a rejuvenation into my work and my love for the world around me. I began to see it all through you. It’s an adventure to you, it’s a world to be conquered, a world to love.

So I get you and those blue eyes. I love it when you call me by name, not a nickname like all the ones I give you, but something about my name rolling off those lips, the simplicity of it all. I blush when you seek me out, when you linger around to get my attention even if I’m talking to someone else. I love that we don’t really have personal boundaries and you stand so close I can compare my poor posture to your why-yes-I’ve-taken-a-dance-class stance. And every so often, when you sit down and I face you, our legs intertwine slightly and you play with my hands like no one else can see us. It’s nothing you say. Your eyes twinkle and you talk to me about your day and your work, meanwhile, our hands are pulling in and out of each other so softly it makes me tingle.

Despite all this, you say you want to hang out more, to see me, and something stops me. I delay you feeling like whatever this is, or could be, cannot actually happen. The timing is wrong I tell myself; it's all off. I cannot ruin this magic. Not yet. That risk is too big.

So I pause and I open my eyes and see yours starring back at me. Waiting for me. Waiting for whatever happens next.

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

tuesday

Today is one of those days where you keep rolling over to hover in the land of sleep just a little bit longer. There is nothing, not even a snooze button, that makes sleeping just a little longer so heavenly as knowing you should be awake with the rest of the world, but choosing yourself, choosing the back of your eyelids and hanging onto one more dream just a little longer. No one really cares how late you sleep in. So you let it linger.

Today is a day where you smell of sleep and dreams and leftover perfume from the day before. There is no hurry to shower, but when you snuggle against the warm side of the pillow you giggle at the way pajamas smell against the cold air and it all seems to fit with the snow on the ground that daunts the outside world. Why bother with that when there is a book within reach? Now you can pause between paragraphs and close your eyes dreaming of the way New York is described and let your mind wander. Images of the people you love and those around you move around in your head. While you think of calling them, the thought of opening your mouth to say “Hello” seems like too much effort. So you sigh in a way that leaves your face in a faint smile and you shift sides because your shoulder starts to hurt. The thought occurs to you that while it is nice to have this bed all to yourself having someone next to you, judging the book you’re reading, wondering what is behind those sleepy eyes of yours, well...that would also be lovely in a different kind of way. But not today. Today is for rubbing your eyes awake like a four year old waking up, hair all around you, not caring about any of it at all.

It’s quiet today and you can hear the clock tick and the humidifier run. Sometime, though you’re not sure when, a tuba starts playing and it makes you realize that you are not alone in the world and that the day is happening at a faster pace for some. But not for you. It’s slow. The hours are still and afternoon turns into early evening and you may wonder if your to do list is worth looking at--really when does laundry need to be done? Who is actually going to care if your nails are painted?

That’s later. Right now there is a book needing to be finished and covers needed to be thrown over your head like you’re hiding. Because that’s really what you’re doing. You are playing hide and seek with the world wondering if anyone is going to seek you out, not really caring because the hiding is so much fun. It feels good being away. You can flee last nights awkward conversations that you can’t get out of your head; you can flee the cute boy down the street; you can flee the expectations and the ideas. You revert. You prove you introverted self correct and you hide. Not really wanting to be found anyway.

Tomorrow will come and none of this will be possible. Maybe even in a couple of hours you will decide to take a long shower and put in a load of laundry, turn on your computer, and enter the world.

Not now.
Now is for you. And the almost finished book in front of you.

Thursday, April 3, 2014

on a good day

Sometimes I go days without thinking about you. I am able to live in the moment and get all entangled in the lives of those around me. I take pictures, laugh really hard, study, dream, and dance in the car.

Then, just as if no time had passed, you come back in. It’s usually something small, a little text, a comment on social media -- a problem of the twenty-first century some would say. And just like that, I am stuck, staring at those couple of words, and I go back. Back to when it was you and me. When we made promises never expecting to break them. When you had my heart and my secrets.

I tell myself that we were too young to understand how good we had it. Those feelings, the flash of young love, it was too much for me to process, too much for smart people like us to trust. We got in our own way, sabotaged it, made excuses, and in the end let it go. It was the one thing I wanted and it -- you and I -- crumbled before my eyes. I failed. And then, in my truest fashion, I pretended. Pretended it wasn’t worth it, pretended you would go on loving me and that one day we’d come back to each other.

You told me once we may have shot in the future. And I clung to that. When I close my eyes, I see it on my computer screen, sitting there like all I had to do was click my heels three times and you’d be here ready for me, in the same way I am here ready for you.

Stupid us. We tried to be friends. We thought we could be that success story, the two people whose names were always next to each other;  we’d prove that we were mature enough to ebb in and out of each other’s lives and make it.

We’ve been at this for about eight years now.

Somedays I get dressed up for someone who isn’t you. I think about kissing someone who isn’t you. I dream of a future far away from you. Those are the good days.