I wish I could write like that again. I’m afraid the cynical ibhog I’ve been stifling for years would finally wrestle me back into a cold cocoon. What have you done to me, life? Why am I so inartistic lately? What’s with the hardening of all I once thought was soft? Is reality finally the concrete rock I once feared would sink my imagination?
You know how sometimes people can so fit in cartoon characters? the tone, the lisp sometimes, the funny stature when they express their worries, or their happiness? the way they suddenly run, jump, scream or laughingly weep? Those people, you can’t fix a stern face with them; your anger always fails miserably at delivering its message when they’re the subject. They just stretch your face in a smile; a smile you will not be able to hold back.
My sister is one of those people. Yesterday in her pink, cushiony dress, she was in my hug. She muttered some words in childish monotone that I couldn’t fathom, but that was all her. She was happily engaged to a good man, yesterday, she was. Alhamdulilah.
I’m taming my untrained words now in an attempt to describe my weird feelings. It’s like, something is done. A burden has been cast off me and dad’s chests, in a sort. With that seeps in me the realization that it was all so natural, so planned of life for her to meet her match now. I like watching this universe directed by its creator, delivering to those who wait that which they deserve. It’s so beautiful how patience always pays you back one day what it kept taking away from you.
Why are we all always in a hurry? What’s so amazing about the end that we’re all so keen on running for? Didn’t we all experience ends before? How many times have we found out the mundane a moment turned out, that was once so sought. Lemme recollect that Mitch Albom quote, I don’t remember where the book is. Wait, I think someone borrowed it, and we both forgot. Hmm ..
*goes to google*
Okay, the page is so slow now. Anyway ..
So .. I mean .. I really think it’s all about our expectations. It’s the darnest thing if you ask me, that expectations stuff. You wait and anticipate and build up all those false images and then when it all finally happens, it passes by so normally. So fireworkless, no excitement, no long pauses like the ones that once filled all of your daydreams. Just, life. With its unceasing gait, with its .. unwaiting state ..
Quote is up..
All that happens when your dreams come true is a slow, melting realization that it wasn’t what you thought. – Mitch
Well, for me, even though depressing at first taste, the fact is, it’s very comforting. Fireworks are good when, you know, you watch them a night or two a year, not when they’re always there! I mean, it’d be so noisy and annoying!
We’re tricked into thinking that beautiful pauses in life should stretch. It’s not their purpose to do that, instead, they only exist for making us happy every once in a while. We shouldn’t expect more than that of them. They’re like kisses: they are one-second happenings, and lifetime memories.
On the other hand, what should last forever, what truly should have steadiness and everlasting flare, are people; down to earth, imperfect people. Ones who you’ll fight with every now and then, but ones whom the idea of going home with doesn’t irk, doesn’t agitate, doesn’t make you second guess your judgments. People whom you live with. Family.
And the equation of it – life, true life, is, umm, when one of them lovely moments come with those people who’re always around. It’s rare but my God, there’s nothing more beautiful in the world than this. For your Mom, who you see everyday, to give you a hug that you remember for decades. For your dad, who wakes you up every morning, to one time kiss your forehead into eternal remembrance. For your sister to laugh an echo in your heart. For your brother to come and caress your hair into numbing warmth ..
For your love, to sleep in your arms one night, unplanned, unintended, except by destiny. To find things you didn’t even know you were searching for. To realize things that just make you happy. To live life in deja vu, with all of its incomplete excitement.
Imperfection is more perfect with the right ones, indeed.
I love Ghada.
So very freaking much ..
My two feet deep closet was floormatted with a velvety cloth. The things hanged either smelled of flowers, of clean, or simply of me. I quickly cleared a space under his left arm, and we both sat in total silence for a while, with our legs stretching out. I was still in my shoes all this time. He didn’t say anything, he was just breathing. My head, now a shy child in the hug of his arm and chest, in its dedicated favorite warm place, was entranced by the music of his heartbeat. It changes rhythm; its quick throbbing after he broke my light fall segued now into a poised old man gait. Every moment in a while, he inhales a depth, and the rhythm goes stronger I can sense the thuds against my right cheek.
His face leans over my head. “What are we doing?”, he whispers.
“What happened to you?”, I ask, my eyes closed.
Might be continued ..