She always had purpose. Big
"cahunas" as they said. Guts. Drive. Passion. A brilliant mind. A
resilience that people admired and sometimes feared because it seemed she could
get through anything. Brokenness was not a feeling she was familiar with.
But brokenness she discovered
was part of growth. And so like a house swept clean she woke up one day empty.
Devoid of all emotion. Expectant of something, someone, a wind, a change and
push, a pull, a tug, a wave...something...empty heart, empty mind, strong.
And all sorts of things
followed. Career moves and liftings, attention from the most unlikely places
and people and progress. But the throneroom remained empty.
Now when she sits back and
thinks about it, those were defining moments. Crowning moments. She has slowly
developed into a semblance of a queen. Gracefully accepting. Quietly
progressing. Thoughtfully reacting most of the time...
There is lots to think about.
A man.
Alot to think about.
When she thinks now, she
remembers the nerves. Not quite knowing how to ask. And how the first
impression was so wrong on both their parts. She remembers the weirdness that
was not unpleasant but was still weirdness. A particular disjointedness of
sensation, like half kneeling with arms akimbo. Poised to jump. She remembers
not understanding certain things and moments when he would stop in mid sentence
and start calculating something, eyes afar, forefinger squiggling imaginary
numbers on an imaginary white board as they sat at the traffic lights. A moment
later he would be back, bashfully trying to remember what he had been speaking
about. And then one day she was so used to it and fond of it that it made her
smile even when he was miles away.
So many pictures, immortality
on paper, on hard drives...every day a journey...how he would call before bed
and say "Thankyou for helping me navigate through today, I really
appreciate it." And she would smile because it made her feel useful and
special. And she wonders now when she sits next to him, at which point she
became so bound up in the man. When he became so important.
Was it when he hurt his knee
and she saw him grimacing in pain and to her chagrin could not do anything to
make it go away...everytime she saw him in pain she felt it like her own. Tears
popping into her eyes when he cringed in pre-surgery. Like her child, but more
than her child, her man. Her half. Her Adam.
Or was it when he laughed and
joked and danced and made the ladies giggle and she felt the pride of knowing
that no matter whose head he turned, she had turned his and he would be going
home with her, and talking about forever to her and nobody else...knowing that
he felt, something different and inspired her to feel something different. When
they went to the movies and he was everywhere and everything and the world spun
around and around and they were just so caught up in each other that it didn't
matter how cold it was outside because they would keep each other warm.
A different kind of love.
A scary kind of love.
There is no blueprint for how
it is supposed to go, a rule book, a pyramid of forecasted moves and logical
conclusions and possible outcomes like connecting the dots. No pattern that
says, boy meets girl, they both like custard, boy plays girl a song, girl sings
along. Boy meets parents, they marry and they migrate to a pink house with a
white picket fence and have five babies that look like their great
grandparents.
Nobody tells you about
meeting at night in a room full of people who don't care, butterflies in your
tummy, milk in his. Nobody tells you that it will be bright red toe nails on
bare feet that he will remember till the day he dies. Nobody tells you about
not knowing that when you took that first picture his heart would be beating
like a million horses at full gallop and that you would not know or hear it
because his best asset would always be his ability to hide emotion. Nobody
tells him that one day he would fail to hide that emotion from you above all
others in the world.
Nobody tells you that it will
be weird and complicated and that you will have silly things that bind you
together like bone necklaces and bracelets, or songs that you sing along to together...things
that you saved in the fire. Nobody tells you what a shock it will always be
everytime you finish off each others sentences or that everytime that happens
and you smile he would smile back and make the sun come out. Nobody tells you
how deeply every argument will hurt and how the first time he calls to make
peace he would make a decision to never let a fight brew and fester overnight.
And that the day it does will scar both of you for good. Nobody tells you how
strong the feelings get. And how quickly it happens that you can't remember the
last time you spent a day without thinking of him.
Nobody tells you that there
will be no white picket fence house on the prairie because you would rather
have an open plan living room and you want glass sliding doors and there will a
fence made of iron bars with a black gate outside and flowers up the driveway
and you want two kids and not five. Nobody tells you that the road to all of
that is paved with barbed wire and frequented by snakes. Nobody tells you that.
You walk in blind and find out for yourself.
Its nice to sit and think.
She sits and she thinks. About boyish hands and slender fingers, about watching
him, a head and a half taller than the rest of his soccer team, patting backs,
giving out water, strategising and leading and being so sexy in those shorts.
She thinks about oranges, and kisses that taste like red wine. She thinks about
pineapples and how he always went out of his way to show her what she meant to
him in the most meaningful ways bringing tears to her eyes perpetually...and
how alarmed he still gets every time she cries. She could sit and think for
hours about all the things she loves about him. And the thoughts are beautiful.
She still has guts. And she
is still resilient. Out of that brokenness, the pieces rebuilt into a tower, a
pillar, a monument to life and love and pain and experience. And she is still
the one to watch, the one to beat, the underrated gem. Still. But now,
regardless of cost or consequence, the throneroom is no longer empty...filled
by presence, purpose, lifeblood, shock...Adam.
One more day, one more night,
one more step...every day a journey...outcomes unknown...blind faith...there is
healing in hope...
