The best part of my day is when you lie down beside me. You close your eyes, and drift off to sleep. I look at you, and you’re so tender, and pure. All my upheaval is put to rest, the noises fade away. I look at you and living is the best thing to do.
My dear daughter, you’ve my heart and soul. I love you.
There are two expressions of love, she said. Either you lock the flower in seclusion, that way you get to worship its beauty and sink in its love everyday whole day, or you watch it grow away from you, in its roots, in its entirety. You bear the anxiety of separation and jubilance of union each day anew, and watch it grow petal by petal eventually fading into a vacant stem.
The problem is, my friend, most people are only familiar with the former.
They bid farewell to one another, sidehugs and kissess. A hot summer day. An overwhelming afternoon.
Until again. They all promised. And parted.
They were both in love, or so they thought. He, always a little more than her. She, always falling short. They both stood, ready to part.
What is it about life that can’t let you stay? Can’t let you squeeze and hold tight, while the whole world goes about its business. It doesn’t really matter if you don’t want to play, life’s intervention will budge in like an unplanned middle child. Exhilarating and appalling, and one that has to stay. Are we really living a life, or are we an experimental group for someone observing the act of life?
He held her close. She closed her eyes, and took a deep long breath. Somehow she wanted this moment to be stretched however long was permitted. He kissed her on forehead, Until again, he whispered. And deep down she knew, it was a promise they won’t be able to keep.