Monday, February 25, 2008

Something Lovely, Something Real

Pale magnolias sway delicately, kissed with sunset, outside my window as I write this. The sky stretches into forever, the wind sings sweet nothings, and life goes on. There were so many days before, though, that passed me by unnoticed. I saw no flowers, no sunsets, heard nothing in the wind. The bare arms of trees stretching to salute the sky meant nothing to me at all. But that has changed.

I spent a vast majority of my childhood lost in a book, with no one to talk to and nothing to do. The world was ugly and cold. Everything seemed shades of gray- even me. I searched for answers in things others had said before me- Poe, Plath, Morrison, Cobain. But I found no solace in their words, or in anything else. All was hollow. All was hopeless. That was how it seemed, anyway.

When I started high school, things started to look up. I had friends, I had talents. Words regained meaning, and color seeped steadily into my vision; I found periwinkle and amber in the eyes of my best friends, and chocolate brown in those of my first true love. My baby sister had gold hair and blushing cheeks, suddenly. There were beautiful things in this world after all.
But the day that finally changed everything, it was a perfect June afternoon. My love and I were wandering beside the creek, his calloused, pale hand gently holding my small, pink one. I remember his low voice as he told me I was beautiful, and that he would love me always.
That afternoon, he stopped me deep in the woods, pulled me into his arms, and kissed me more deeply than I had ever been kissed before. It was one of those fairytale kisses that last lifetimes and are powerful enough to give birth to galaxies.

When I opened my eyes, I was startled by the emerald of the leaves, the violet of flowers, and the flash of gold in his deep eyes. Birds whistled and cooed playfully, the water murmured and gurgled like an infant. Everything was a technicolor symphony. Everything was right and beautiful. I could have spent the rest of forever in his arms and been perfectly content. It was the first moment I truly believed in love.

The clouds are fading to violet now, as the sun evanesces and disappears behind them. As I relive these lovely memories I know, even though the man who was a part of them has gone and we’ve taken separate paths, the love that was there still lives. It is not created or destroyed- it simply is. We stepped into one another’s lives and played our parts there for a while. We shared something real. Another woman might be too afraid of being hurt again to give her heart to someone new; she might become cynical, or cold. But, as hard as it is sometimes, I still believe in love, more than anything else. And I live to love, another day.

1 comment:

Eric Shonkwiler said...

Very beautiful, and very true.