Sunday, June 22, 2008

On Love and Associated Feelings

I met this girl 10 days ago. I was out on a Wednesday afternoon, wandering the city in search of a restful place to work, my usual mid-week modus operandi. I set myself up in this cute little café-like establishment in a neighbourhood I had never been to, despite my years of living in its relative vicinity.

She walked in wearing a smart little black sun dress and unkept short-cropped hair. Something about her jumped out at me, knocking out all of my pretensions of getting work done in the said café. Instead, I lay fixated on her being, this invisible aura that lovingly embraced her. As soon as I caught her eye she smiled a smile so pure and joyous that my stomach's visceral reaction said much more than my words ever could. I knew it right then and there: if she wanted it, she had my love. And after three decades of feeling, I can honestly say that I've never felt quite like that before. I watched her drift effortlessly between customers and friends, her smile beaming radiant life into the café, moving those around her to as-yet uncharted ground. I was at once inspired and deeply intrigued. I left the café several hours later, after having only a very brief conversation with her about some inane pseudo-political point of contention, and felt the "maybe I'll see her again" kind of regret I had grown accustomed to.

Instead, I found a message in my inbox from the girl-in-the-black-sundress telling me she wanted to see me again. I felt lucky. And moved. And nervous. Frighteningly so.

Now we've seen each other a few times in the 10 days since we met, and I miss her. She left 2 hours ago to her son and her other responsibilities, and I don't even really know her, but I miss her. I want her and whatever she brings along with her right next to me, I want to feel her, to be in her presence. Last night was this magical thing. Every time we kissed along the river trail we walked down, I nearly had to brace myself from falling, the feeling of love just transcended any real sense of space I may have had. I was floating. She said she felt drugged, I'd say I felt caressed. In fact, when we kissed, these long passionate kisses that I must say everyone needs to experience at least on a weekly basis, my body quivered. Down my spine, up my arms, to the top of my head all the way down to my toes. It was exhilarating. I wanted to sit with that feeling, just digest it fully. Let it sink in. I told the feeling it was welcome in my body at any time. I wanted it to stay for a while.

There is this one precious moment from that night that I feel most deeply. And no, it has nothing to do with discarding items of clothing. We were lying on the couch cuddling and she looked up at me: "You know, you've brought life to my life." And though what she said was sweet, it was the look in her eye, the way a small little tear welled up before disappearing, the sincerity of her emotions, that moved me. Above all, it was the light in her eyes- she shone brighter than even the first day I met her- that embraced something so deep inside me that I'm unable to fully articulate it. I won't even try, I'm just going to let it wash through my body and thank this beautiful person for receiving my love so fully. Whatever else happens, bringing such joy to someone's life is a blessing. And I'm quite sure my eyes shine in much the same way as hers.