This post probably would cross some boundaries, but I'm hoping that you don't ever get to read it. And similarly, I'm going to keep this as brief and vague as possible. (Recently have been getting into a blog dry spell. That is when one neither has the time, nor the inclination to write about anything, despite the fact that things keep on happening in your life-not to say that Life really stops when you stop writing...)
OK, back to the story.
Sunday evening. Dinner is served late as usual. I'd had a late brunch thing at about 1030am and skipped lunch. So by 815pm, we were driving around and the first restaurant that we'd gone to (promised to be fabulous) was closed, and we drove around again for something else. 830pm. I'm starting to get desperate. Suggested another place, so we all (finally) unanimously agreed (hard to believe it's so hard to get consensus on a place to go) and drove there. I must have arrived around 835pm. And I was on the phone with you the whole time.
My sister in law made a joke about how coincidentally phone conversations just keep happening when I'm around them. I had to play on the joke and continued saying, "Yeah, you know, whole day I'm waiting for the phone to ring, and just when I'm going to step out of the house, it rings. Murphy's Law." I wasn't lying. It's true. I had been waiting. Truth #1. You had to call. Truth #2. I didn't care if it was in the most inopportune time. Truth #3. Sad, but true.
Anyway, so I finally got to the restaurant when you had to go get some sleep (thank you time difference) and suggested I call you back at around 9pm. I set my alarm. This is strange thing #1 for me to do. But it was exactly 25 minutes more to go and I would have forgotten. Sneak phone under table, key the typical Start > 8 > 9 > 3 that I'm used to, got me to Date/Time settings and I changed my alarm time.
9:00pm exactly. The phone rings. The alarm. The waitress had just started to serve food. It was a tense moment as the rice got placed in front of me. I stepped up from the tatami I was sitting on and got up to make that phone call. You were already awake. I think it was tense. There was no one else in the restaurant except us, and the place was quiet. Silent relief you didn't take too long to answer the phone, the receptionist was intelligent and the phone rang only a few times. You weren't sleeping. Silent relief, silent relief. Call you back later? OK, like when??
Cut to dinner. There was awkward silence when I returned to the table. First of all, it was pretty darn rude, probably one of the rudest things I have ever done, and I have a personal taboo not to interrupt dinners. You know I hate to interrupt dinners. Especially if it is with friends/family, not that I ever eat alone. I mumbled a quick, completely unbelievable excuse, and sat down. Attempted to resume dinner to normal.
And to think that this evening, just-only just, that you and I were talking about me being too dependent on you. I cannot believe how easily you saw through me. I cannot believe that you knew this before I did - this is not me to feel this way, and I hate it that you knew it even before the truth hit me. Obviously, the truth is, I am. The truth is, I've never found myself feeling this way about anyone before, and it scares the hell out of me how much I feel. The truth is, you know it. And it's you that I'm feeling this way about. It's crazy.
I keep telling everyone - "No day but today. Forget regret, or life is yours to miss." I am so much in love with the idea of being in love, I dream about being in love more than I really am, more than I know how to recognise it when it is staring at me, point-blank, in the face. People need to tell me what devotion is. And I've only recognised it, and let it slip, only too many times before. What's this now?
Does Love make you change your habits and your ways overnight? Or is Love a slow and settling truth, one that hits you in a way you cannot deny, only in hindsight when you look back and recollect the number of times you did something nice just because? Is Love that patient and slow affection that is slow to burn, not jealous but kind, not possessive or outraged when you mention an old flame, when I come back late at night? Is Love that slow and lazy affection you feel for an old dog that you've taken care of since he was a puppy, or that yearning fire that engulfs and destroys, when you are not around and my eyes burn?
No, I think Love is both that gentle and radiant fire that burns but does not consume. Love is learning how to let go, and knowing when and how to understand. Love is knowing that although you will miss me, you let me be who I am, you let me go when you know I need to go, even though you will be waiting home at night. Love is patient... it is not jealous. Somehow the phrases you read at someone else's wedding ring out in my ears today like a reminder of what is staring at me in the face.
Somehow I know this is forever. And like a diamond sitting before me, so close yet so far, I am so apprehensive to reach out and touch it. I fear it is not mine to hold for the rest of my life. Yet your eyes when you reach out say something nearly completely different. This is the tension of Love. It is not mine to take, but completely yours to give. If only I could find a way also, to make you take what I'm completely willing to give.
No comments:
Post a Comment