Life Itself

You asked me the other day, "When did you know that you wanted to marry me?". It was an innocent question, one among many others. You and I have always been able to seamlessly ask each other anything. In fact it was the simple act of conversation that brought us together. Before you, I always thought I would eventually get dulled by the same person. That over time, the magic would wear off and I would be left with regret. That the curiosity would wane. That I would run out off things to connect on. That cynicism would take over and I would give up. Then I met you. It was simple. You were the first person that showed me that conversations never get boring. That fights are okay. That communication breaks, but repairs. That a promise lasts longer than a lifetime. It was easy. You showed me how. 

I was only eight when that passport was collected from the locker, those bags were packed, and a painful separation was initiated. Even as a child, I could feel the intuitive ending as it drew near. I had known, without complete certainty, that the apparent stability in my life was slowly transiting into a monster I would have to live with for the next many years of my life. Children understand things in a way that adults never can. Children feel and perceive, without denying or analyzing. And in my case, the intuition was even stronger than most other kids. While other kids would often grow up in cheerful ignorance, I always sensed that unsettled remark, always understood the sideway glance, and always felt that double meaning. Do you ever forget the moment when things break? When families split? Does the feeling of incompleteness, of having a part of you missing, of a pain from a distant past, ever ease? Do separations ever end? Do you get over that need to have someone

For me, the only real way to get over something as significant as this, is to write about it. Write about it so much that it becomes almost like you are telling someone else’s tale, like you are blogging about something you watched as a by-stander.  What a week it was. What started off as a casual - I’ll go and charm her into giving me what I want - turned into the worst nightmare of my life. I stood and watched helplessly as I was told about a world that I barely knew existed, one that I definitely didn’t know the rules off. So I watched as the characters changed, the scripts got edited and re-edited, the director’s chair was swiftly occupied by a different character every few hours. And all along there was an underlying fear, suspicion and constant feeling of deception.  It is easy to rely on your intuition - you at least have a decision and either right or wrong, you deal with the consequences and move on. This was different. For the first time in my life the consequences

Which part of you do you identity most as yourself? When do you feel every fibre illuminate and glow? The blood in your every last vein, your breath raciest? What moment of perfect coincidences penetrates you irrevocably? When do you stop and stare at the immensity of you? How do you touch, and own, that irresistible perfection? Who are you in that very split second of recognition? Who are you as the last piece finally fits? Who are you when the haze lifts? Do you capture those fleeting chances? Do you etch that awareness? Do you lose a few seconds? Does it overwhelm you? Does it define you? Do you know?