Just cause it didn’t work out doesn’t mean it wasn’t beautiful.
If they, whoever ‘they’ are, tell you you’ll love only once, and there will never be anything like it, they will only be partially right.
We have an immense capacity to love, so at this mid- life age, I can tell you, you won’t love only once. You will love– truly, madly, deeply, many times. And, you will grow from it, and make memories; the mixed bag will swell with time.
The partially right part– there will never be anything like it. Each will be unique, and hold a special place in your life; some will even make it to your heart. And, my god, each will be glorious in their own way.
Many a novels, and well, most of history is covered with the graphic representation of a woman’s portrayal in love dowsed eyes. But, when I look back, I shiver at the joyous times spent, the flutters afresh. A woman in love? Sure. But a woman in lust? Oh, the literature and poetic rapture.
Like so…here goes…
(NOTE: Yes, yes, we are in a fairly liberated world, and while I am a promoter of “love and let love,” I hypocritically fail to extend the same privilege to myself. So, this might seem like a regular post to most, but it is a damn bold one for me.)
Ok, now here goes…
Over time, regrets fade, the heartache is renamed “experience,” and I revel in the beautiful memories. Now, I am left with you, flashes of reflections on all the deliciously, wonderful times with each of you, even though you are few.
The broad, strong back, the one that made this bold one feel dainty as a flower petal. Blanketed by you just standing next to me. The feel of your arms wrapped around my waist, making me feel gentle in your man hug.
The glorious eyes, with a sincere, but penetrating glare that made me look away, cause I just couldn’t hold that damn what-colour-are-his-eyes gaze.
Those moments where you looked at me or touched me fleetingly, making me conscious and reach for my own hair to tuck behind my ear or look down at my fingers, just to fidget, while my heart, and other parts, smiled in excitement.
When you laughed at something I said, my wit at its prize-winning best, it took me to the next level. Utter joy!
And true to the psychology of things, your smell, uniquely your fragrance, deeply rooted in my senses.
The smiles…this is for each of you. Oh your smile, it made me feel like warm sunshine on a cool winter morning, or cool breeze on a blistering summer afternoon. Take your pick, you made me feel both, at once, if that were possible.
Your flaws are plenty, and I thank my stars we are not together. But you gave me realisations, and made me feel. And I carry that with me. The nostalgia adds to my present. Those moments are my conversations over a cup of warm tea, my smile in a quiet moment, and my earnest writing.
We can’t choose whom we are attracted to, but oh, when we do connect. When that spark ignites…it’s like nothing else, and it is just…fabulous.
I can’t wait to fall for another, but this time, may I never need to pluck a faded memory again.