I always take the window seat when flying. It’s comforting, especially when you’re flying alone. No one to intrude on your personal space by constantly climbing over you for pee-stretch breaks, your very own window out of this mild claustrophobia, and something, anything to lean your head against that isn’t the nice lady next to you.
I’m writing this 30,000 feet up in the air, having just finished watching The Fault in Our Stars. I find one more reason to take the window seat – when you’re crying buckets, you save yourself the embarrassment with a simple head tilt toward the cold glass.
Once again, I contemplate the movie / book. And once more I think about how terrible it would be to lose my love. Here I am, pathetically at Day Four of being away from him because he’s taken flight ahead of me. And I am another Four painful days from nuzzling my head in his chest. 8 days isn’t much really, but it exacerbates this already creeping feeling of loneliness without him. What would that be like, life without him? What would I remember him by?
As it is I’m starting to forget his laugh, his face. And we saw each other on Skype last night. Memory is a funny thing. I suppose combining Memento and this weepy flick, I am reminded that people live in our hearts longer than they do. I am comforted that we choose to believe the things we want, that we can preserve someone’s laugh not merely digitally, but just by closing your eyes.
And so, I take him with me wherever I go. Where is he right now? Right now, the nice lady is gone and he’s in her place, gripping my hand, looking at me cheekily grinning and saying, “I’m so exciteddd!!”
I love you more than I ever imagined I could love someone. I guess when they describe being in love as a heart bursting with joy, they were right.
*written 14 Oct in airspace somewhere over the South China Sea
Normally I’d like to have people come over. Sure I’d fuss a little over cleaning table tops and shining glasses, but I’ve never felt so apprehensive before.
I’m afraid you’ll pick my house apart. I’m afraid you’ll point out stains and scratches, marks from years of wear that I least want people to notice. And yet you will, I know it.
I can’t imagine letting you step into my home. I love it, warts and all. It smells like me, it’s lived in, it’s all I know as a sanctuary. And I’m terrified that you might not like this extension of me. I’m afraid this won’t measure up to your standards… Or that I won’t measure up.
Ron Koertge (via observando)
This week…. actually this year I’ve accelerated my learning on the beauty of making mistakes.
I firmly believe that sometimes, people need to run headfirst into a wall they’ve inadvertently built or always wanted to avoid, before any lasting change happens. And time has proven this to be true. People will screw up. And sometimes so badly that they can’t help but look at their problem squarely in the eye, bite down and decide for themselves that they will fix it.
Similarly I charged straight into a couple of walls recently, emerging slightly battered but all the better for it. I’m working on being more efficient, more loving and more controlled. Hopefully I won’t have to run into too many others soon.
Elinor Glyn (via observando)
And I’ve never seen it so golden.
I know this when my phone is out of battery and I’m on a long train journey home alone, and there isn’t an idle moment because I’m reliving and chuckling at little moments we shared.
I know this when I look at the expanse of sky and think how happy I am that of all people, you want to hold my hand.
I know this when a long day seems easy to bear knowing I get to see you at the end.
You really are a marvel, more than you know.
I just read an article that said people experienced the most joy reading their journal entries about everyday happenings. The mundane, the normal.
Okay I’ll start writing about them.
An hour ago, we took the train home, and I rested my head on your shoulder, curling my arm in the snug crook of your own. You had been sick with the flu a few days now, and you’d barely eaten dinner. Coupled with the past few nights of staying up to work, this brief moment of respite was pure bliss.
You let your head lean on mine and as the train rumbled on, you fell deeply asleep, but never once letting my hand slip. I remember feeling safe and happy, knowing my love was finally getting some rest. It wasn’t long before I too drifted off.
This is our normal, making the most of our tired days. But every morning I see him in my playground, usually exhausted though always pleased to see me. And every night I get to stroll home with him as I gaze at the stars is a wonder in itself.
Dear God, you spoil me. Thank you.
While I was on an office retreat last week, a friend recommended I read the weepy Cancer Novel, “The Fault in Our Stars”. I… don’t actually know why it’s titled this way, but the story I get.
"Some infinities are bigger than other infinities." Obviously the book got me thinking about death, or life, really. I remember writing about how we think we’re invincible when we’re the epitome of fragility. How large is my infinity? When will I go? If I were to go tomorrow, what would I do today, how would I feel? Who would miss me?
I often check myself, to give perspective. What impact have I made? What have I allowed Christ to do through me, in me? Have I loved enough? What did my time here do for anyone in the end?
We cannot live as though we are invincible. Increasingly I read about friends and family passing on ‘prematurely’. “She was the life of the party!”, “He was a gifted pianist.” Planes crash, disasters strike, bodies fail. Consider yourself; the position you’re in, the people around you and the eternity before you. What does that look like? What responsibilities are we given to fulfill that we have neglected? Or even, who would we want to appreciate before it’s too late?
Tell loved ones how you feel about them. An extra hug, a kind word, a helping hand will go a long way, maybe longer than you expect. So count your blessings, and be grateful.
Crouching down, looking at his guppy tank, finger outstretched:
"Onetwothreefourfiv-OnetwothreefourfivesixOnetwothreefourfivesi- STOP SWIMMING"
"Good, all still alive."
Give me a kiss to build a dream on
And my imagination will thrive upon that kiss
Sweetheart, I ask no more than this
A kiss to build a dream on
Have you ever gripped someone so tight, so long; hoping you could stash that feeling and be fueled by it once they’re gone?
Every morning as we part at my gates, I throw my arms around your waist and nuzzle my head into your chest, wondering how much more of you I can take in to last me through the day. One more squeeze please! Each evening when I see you and you kiss my nose, headiness takes over and I’m like an excited schoolgirl again.
I wonder, how long can you go without the embrace of a loved one? Today I thought about the concept of touch - doesn’t matter if it’s a romantic embrace or mom’s reassuring arm around your shoulders. How little can one subsist on before you start feeling unwanted, alone, even afraid to face the world? And can you store it up for a rainy day?
Tomorrow till Friday will be the longest I’ve gone without seeing you. I got an extra squeeze in tonight, and a bonus whirl in the air! That’ll do I think. You’ll do I think.
The two of us… we have our good days you know. Yesterday was one such day. Even our off days aren’t too bad. No one yells, no one accuses, no one has bad intentions.
Today was a good day overall. After I told you I was feeling insecure about how I looked, I just wish you’d say you think I’m pretty. Or even a “not bad” might do. But you couldn’t say anything and I don’t know why. Do you not think I’m pretty? Meh.