I’ll wait for you, she says; as he boards another plane, takes another trip, goes for another ride, lays his head down for the night. I’ll wait for you, she reminds him. She smiles as she does. She used to hate to wait, but she does so out of love.
He is a mover, always on the go. She admittedly moves much more slow. He is gone now, away again. Another trip, someplace beautiful. She is waiting, waking, working, writing, sleeping, breathing, and waiting some more. She sits for hours sometimes, waiting for a bleep of the phone.
How long she’ll wait, she cannot say. She may wait forever, or she may wait one more day. Either way, and however it may go, she will wait as long as her heart tells her so. Right now she is waiting, for a kiss goodnight. She is waiting for a “let’s snuggle in tight”. She is waiting for dreams to carry her away, so she can start the waiting over again, tomorrow day.
“Hello” I say into the phone, not bothering to look at caller ID.
“E-mail sucks” he almost groans. I smile, he’s correct, I haven’t heard from him in hours. I was getting nervous, to be honest.
I tell him as much, we chat and laugh and smile. We are busy, we cannot stay on the phone long. His world, my world; going one hundred miles a minute parallel to each other, intersecting on rare wonderful occasions. The moments we live for.
I’m back to my coffee and patients, he’s back to his reports. The world keeps turning, paying no mind to shit e-mail or moon crossed lovers who can’t go a few hours without conversation. The world keeps mourning celebrities, abusing their own children and pampering their pets. The world keeps advancing and falling apart at equal speed.
And me, I just want coffee, I want time with him alone, away from this world, in Neverland or on the moon, either will do. I’m also open to other suggestions.
She was apprehensive, almost standoffish. I guess he didn’t notice or didn’t care. He had his very own agenda which had not one single thing to do with her. Their bad attitudes just happened to collide.
In the beginning
She thought him to be ignorant, but not in the way that one is not intelligent, she knew he was intelligent. In the way that one is new to something. Which he was. He was new to this world which she was so completely consumed within. She was both bothered and endeared with his newness. The endearment stuck.
In the beginning
She tried every one of her tricks to push him away. He either didn’t notice or didn’t seem to care. Her heart skipped a beat each and every time he returned. He seemed to both notice and care because he never stayed gone for very long. This delighted her very much. An emotion she wasn’t much accustomed to.
When love beckons to you, follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden. - Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet