There’s been someone who is settled deep inside our heart.
The story goes quite conventional: we met at a travellers’ meeting in a bar. I locked eyes on him at the very first second. While everyone introduced themselves, I waited anxiously for his turn so I would hear his voice, his name and his purpose. Soon after, he was right next to me. I gazed into the blue of his eyes and got lost within his words. He spoke softly and listened patiently as I told him about myself. There was something strange about that person, something almost supernatural. In front of me, it was love that had come at first sight.
As most young women do, I waited for his next move. A message, a contact, something. Nothing came, so I decided to take the lead. I couldn’t stand the idea of never seeing or hearing from him again. Four weeks had passed before I sent that message and it took less than a day to get something back. I knew there and then he’d been as nervous as I was to find each other. He was hooked too.
Our first date was almost magical. I can still recall the thrill and the anxiety of seeing him again. Upon his arrival, he texted and I looked through my window to see him there, dressed in what I would later discover to be his “fancy occasion” only white blouse. I walked downstairs and said hello. He opened the car door for me, I entered and he asked if I was okay. Oh boy, how okay I was! I could barely believe I was going on a date with him. Doors closed, we hit the road.
A tapas restaurant was the place. Slow food, wine and plenty of talk. The first of the many times we shared a meal from the same plate. We looked at each other, we shared our stories, we fell in love. Three hours had passed before we decided that it was time to go, but all I wanted was to spend an extra one next to him. We shivered near each other, as if there was a magnetic current powered by every hand touch. He marvelled me in every way and I didn’t want to let go.
In the course of the next weeks, he would do anything to be with me. No kiss had been shared, no actual hug. There was no physical engagement which could categorise us as one or as even a couple, but we knew what we were to one another. It was a busy period in my life, but even in my hard core hours and very little break, fifteen minutes were enough. Enough to talk, to share, to simply be in the same square meter. Two months had passed before he dropped me off at home with a kiss. His soft lips pressing against mine, his hands holding my face. I felt my legs trembling upon his words “I wish to see more of you!”. And yes, I wanted to see more of him. But that was that and nothing more of him I saw.
A year later, I decided to try again. His lurking presence had been always there and I knew he hadn’t forgotten. I knew he was also making sure he was around.
We agreed to meet again. This time, was under a sky of shooting stars. Sitting on garden chairs in the late dark of a summer night, we sipped our tea and watched the sky for the good luck of comets to come upon us. Hours had passed as we gazed and talked about whatever. The subject, never mattered. The sound of our voices were enough to keep us going, unlimited. It was the night where the sky played its part and laid its magical blessing upon us.
A month later and with our hearts filled with fear, our love was consumed. This time, the sky was filled with simple drawings. The warmth of his arms around me, the safety I found there. We let ourselves go in each other and we found something we both had been looking for a long time. I was twenty-five but it felt as I was brand new. Home was there and nothing in the universe mattered.
It’s been almost six years since that afternoon at the bar. It’s been almost five since his side became my home and his arms, my shelter. It feels like an entire lifetime has happened in between and that there is still so much to share, so many days to simply be. If only our demons hadn’t caught up with us and our fears hadn’t suppressed what we had best to give. If only we could forget the heartbreak from the past and live the now, holding each others hands towards the future. If only life had taught him to trust that he could hold on to me and his fears hadn’t pushed me away so much, so often. If only we shared the same sense and levels of home we’d known it all in advance. If only… if only.
Now, we no longer share our days or our bedtime talks. We both share a bittersweet past and the dreadful truth of the present. Our demons collide while near and our fears increase while away. A madhouse of unbalance. The actions once known blew back at our faces as if they were new, as if none of us understood them. Frightened, we let go. Our connection is present, right here and there, and we know of the love we still share. I pray to the universe to help him overcome darkness and to be whole. I beg to see again that guy I fell in love with, the one who gazed at me with tenderness once smiled at each other. And I hope to find the same joy in my heart as I found in his smile.
And though my soul tells me this is right, my heart yearns for the warmth of his comfort. I know, and gosh I do, that i am nothing but grateful for everything the universe has given us to live, for the bond that will forever make us whole. For the chance to stare at skies and the water in the horizon, and to carry out our dreams with our floating feet.
This feeling of home that will forever be ours and this love that I will forever warm keep.
