Thursday, June 19, 2014

White Daisies

I don't know how fast a heart would have to beat for it to forget all the words that were said in its presence, for if I knew, if I knew how fast, I would probably remember more. But they say that less is more and I say that less is beautiful. Like you, for instance, asking me to imagine a life up in the clouds, not knowing that up in the clouds is where I always am when I am with you. Like you asking me to guess how high that bird is flying, when I, still sitting on the green grass beside you, was already hovering right there with him. I say less is definitely more. Because when you asked me to estimate the number of daisies surrounding us, and then again when I was squeezing a little white one between my fingers, when you said the things you said and then leaned in to stop saying more, less became infinite, and less became beautiful.

And yet, I still don't know how fast a heart would have to beat, but I think it's safe to say that mine got pretty close. And it's not because of what you said, but because of how you said it, of how the universe reacted to cheer you on. I hovered because of the way my hand felt in yours, because up until then my hands were foreign, so alien in fact that I never knew where to put them or what they usually do. I soared because of the way we fed the famished ducks, almost as if we were six again, and time didn't matter, because time never does, not when I am with you.

For when I am with you, time travelling exists, and I can go back to the day I made myself believe that life is chaotically unpredictable, and that being a dreamer is the most exciting way of cruising through it. Because it is, and it seems as if I chased mine long enough until I caught them.

And it seems as if I unplugged my heart until I found you.

Saturday, June 14, 2014

Fifty

If you were to ask me what it is I want from life,
the jewels of a queen, or the apron of a housewife,
I'd go for the apron, without a shred of doubt,
and I would stick to it and never back out.

Because happiness is not proportional to money,
and you can smile even when it's not sunny.
Because there is no point in having it all,
if you go to bed at night with no one to call.

And I understand now, now that I can finally see,
what you had tried to tell me all those years ago,
when I was little and so I had plenty of time to grow,
when telling the time meant that it was still going slow.

Back when I whispered "Mum, I think I'm scared",
so you took my hand, looked into my soul, and cared.
Told me "I know. But life's not for the faint hearted.
It's for people who fall, get up, and get started."

And you're right, my emerald jewel, you're absolutely right.
We do not live forever but we can always shine bright.
Like the sparkle that still scintillates in your eyes,
the one that I am almost certain awakens the northern skies.

For you are why the stars align every night,
and why I know what I know so I hold on tight.
You are everything a wonderful woman should be,
and I will challenge anyone who does not agree.

You are more beautiful now than I can remember, more than
when I first opened my eyes that day in September.
You are the epitome of the perfect mum,
the real reason why we are who we've become.

Thank you for showing me the light when I was blind,
when kindness and hope and patience I could not find.
Thank you for looking at the world through an untainted lens,
for making me believe that life will always somehow make sense.

You are my fifty kinds of happiness, and I love you.