Romance is in the Air…port.

I’m in love. More or less, I’m in love with an idea. A suit and a tie that fits effortlessly around all the right places. I’m in love with his shoes, and the size of his feet. I’m in love with his belt, and how it hugs his waist before I can. I’m in love with his hair, and how it barely cascades down his neck, only to be picked up again and styled at the front. It’s dark, and when the light hits it, it shines barely, but enough. His lips, the perfect size for his face, that hold his stubble like a trophy on a shelf. The arch of his eyebrows furrows towards his medium sized nose. A freckle, one…two. That’s all.

Perhaps he is the mere image of what I embody as a dream. Nowadays I’m so focused on who will I choose to guide me through marriage, kids, family life. I forget that maybe I’ve never met them. Maybe there’s a reason that love goes to waste on my tired heart. It’s as if the harder I try, the quicker I fail. So who is he? He is a stranger, and if you had asked me half an hour ago, I’d be confused between love and lust amongst my mental list that I carry, with pros and cons of the familiar. 

But it’s just turned 5 in the morning, and I think that I’m in love. But it’s not with Mr. Touchscreen Watch. It’s with the idea that his strong hands might hold mine one day, but I’ll never know because once the flight lands we will go our separate ways. This makes it more dangerous, and the idea of a future with someone unpredictable. 

Whether I’m in love, in lust, or incapable of knowing, I’m ready. I’m ready to be…surprised. I’m ready to be accepted, and confronted with something I don’t know about. Someone I know based off of the way they hold a suitcase, may have taught me the lesson that therapists have exhausted themselves over. Why would I stress about something I ultimately cannot predict? I may be able to imagine his hair color, his suit, his lips, but I’ll never know his name, until I am supposed to. And when that day comes, nothing else will matter, and it will feel indescribable.


Sunrise and Sunset: Part 1

In a sea of vulnerability, I had been left. One year had passed since the break up, and one year later, the complete undoing I invited to stay, was unpacked, and living with me. I assumed by month 3 it would find a new home, and I wouldn’t lose consciousness every time I heard his name, but I did. By month 5, I knew it was over, and a few trips to the gym would soon leave me utterly independent, but they did not. Month 9 came around, and I was sure that my undoing was getting tired of there not being any food in the fridge, or clean sheets on the bed, but it was not. Month 13, and I become friends with it, what choice did I have? A part of me knew that I needed it to leave. My heart had been so numb, tossed on the ground, rubbed in soil, and buried 13 feet underground. Sometimes, my undoing would forget to follow me home, and I had a few hours where I awaited fresh water, and sunlight, hoping it would grow. But it always came home. I searched day, but mostly night for a something I could touch. Every Saturday night began with false eyelashes and hope, but ended with cold bathroom floors, and empty bottles. My eyes could always detect good vs evil, but my soul chose to look the other way. Though, one night, I opened both, when sunshine had approached, and asked me to dance. Of course I said no, everything that I am was owned by the one who left. I had forgotten what light looked like, so I turned it down at the welcome mat. But he persisted, and I was too broken to stand up by myself. So he let me rest my heart on his for a while. I became fond of this new pitstop. I didn’t feel cold when I left, and it soon felt familiar. Sunshine burned in my loins and left me warmer, and comfortable. A few months had passed and I couldn’t help but smile when I thought of him. My bones were stronger, and with the help of his touch, I could stand again. Each breath I took was easier, my lungs thanked me for this. Each food I ate tasted better, my appetite thanked me for this. But each nerve that was kissed, was not pain, so my heart began to apologize. I was not numb, I was alive. I latched myself to this feeling, with the strongest grip I could muster. My knuckles were red and the look of despair in my eyes let him know my secrets, without saying a word. He’s a smart man, and he understood, so he held me tighter. He even said that he loved me, and he wasn’t going anywhere. The sun rises everyday, and it was so beautiful, so how was I supposed to remember that it sets?

It was Christmas time, and I sat in the airport by myself. Saying my goodbyes over the phone as if I were never to see him again, although it would only be two weeks, and I was going to be okay.

“I love you, but I have to go now, my section is boarding, I’ll talk to you when I land tomorrow”, I said.

“Theres something I need to tell you before you go”, he pleaded, persistent as ever.

“Can it wait, I really have to go?”

“Not really.”

Hesitant, I accepted and told him to make it quick.

“I’ve signed up for the Marines, and I am going to have to go away for a while, in the new year. We can talk about it tomorrow, but I needed to tell you. Goodbye, have a safe flight.”

And although I was aware of what he had just said, suddenly, nothing was clear anymore. The people who stood around me in line became one large void. My ears blocked out the noises that they once heard. My palms were sweaty, and my forehead felt cold. My aching heart tingled, and I was no longer there. I was back, where I used to be, the world was dark once again, and it had never felt so familiar.

xx Mai