Monday, August 7, 2017

From the Beaches

There will be many mornings like this.
Him asleep enveloped in the arms of your little angels. 
You, awake, lonely, still able to pack and prep and think.
You'll make a list in your head, allowing him to sleep that much longer.
You'll put in some cash inside your phone cover and grab the keys before pursuing the quiet that you crave, yet fear.

You'll walk out wondering if he noticed, hoping that he would wake up and run after you, while at the same time you feel worried that he'd lose the sleep that he so needs. 
He's been the hero under the sun, while you were too weak to lift your head from the wastebasket. 
He stayed up with the kids while they rambled on and on about their day. 
He laughed with them while you wished you had the energy to be there, to be included.
He kept you company and yet, yet he kept silent. 
Kept to himself.

Is it you? Now, you're staring at the sky. 

The sun rises slowly.
Who would've thought that the sun would rise before your eyes, allowing you to bask in the cliched beauty of sunrise, a beauty that you've overlooked for most of your life.
You have a sudden narcissistic appreciation.
Finally someone is happy to see you.
The silence blankets you. 
Reminding you that it is always there for you. 

Loneliness watches from afar, it's eyes weeping with, well... loneliness. 

You call it over and take it's hand before hugging it tight, much like you wish he would do.
You understand Loneliness and somehow it understands you.
Looking deep into L's eyes, you could see the little girl you used to be, the girl who contently played by herself, oblivious of what loneliness meant. 
Sometimes you wish you could remain in that bubble.

You wish you hadn't known what friendship, companionship and laugher with him meant.

And you come back to the same question: how would his life play out had you not stumbled in? 
Would it be better?
You have a sense that it would be.
Your little angels flash on your phone.
Half the time you wish you hadn't changed your wallpaper, but in moments like this you're glad that you did.
They remind you that at least you've created something good, something that would wake you up on weekend mornings if you allow them to. 
And yet, as you're sitting alone you wonder if you're doing more good than bad. 
If perhaps, they'd be better off without you.
You wish you would not be at this crossroads, faced with the thought of leaving them or staying.

What would make you stay? 
The assurance that they would be better if you're around, that he won't leave and that you'd be allowed to grow old with him, sincerely.
That would make you stay. Would definitely make you stay. Make you stay longer at least.