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We woke up in a strange mood. I am not sure why I say "we" as it was my mood that was weird, but I could clearly sense the tension between us. I had no idea why. I asked him and he said everything was fine. He made us breakfast; he has always been better at cooking than me. We ate in silence and then he disappeared in the bedroom with his laptop. The whole day has been silent. He says there is nothing wrong with silence. I hate it, silence feels sinister to me. Relationships can be confusing sometimes.
I take your face into my palms and look deeply into your eyes. There is no way I will ever get enough of this beautiful face. Everything is perfect. Looking deep into your eyes I feel like I am swimming in chocolate. Taking in your perfectly shaped lips, I get weak in my knees. I follow your eyebrows with my fingers, then I move to your nose, your cute perfectly shaped nose. I move closer and inhale deeply trying to take it all in. The scent is the best ever, I realize I need my daily dose. I love you.
The Man with the Cabbage Head She saw him as soon as she entered the park that late hot July afternoon. The sky was blue and the sun was scorching. He was sitting on a brown wooden bench, silently and motionlessly. The very moment she spotted him, she was helplessly taken by him. She never took her eyes off him as she slowly approached the grassy area where his bench was located. He was gorgeous, the most beautiful man she has ever seen. Exactly her type, with the most perfect features, most perfect physique, sitting in the most perfect posture...
...Perfectly shaped nose, perfectly angled chin, perfect hair, perfect skin... Dreamy eyes. Beautiful hands with beautiful fingers...His posture was so graceful... She held her breath as she came closer and carefully sat next to him. He still didn't see her and kept his gaze on something somewhere in the distance in front of him, keeping his position. She was just about to say something to him and as she leaned closer and opened her mouth, she had a better look at him. Her face stiffened, eyes opened wider. Suddenly she realized that instead of his head...was a cabbage.
I like writing about love. I always have. I have always been a hopeless romantic. In my teen years, I kept writing short stories about "her" and "him"; the stories would usually end with "the kiss". The girl in the story usually looked the way I wanted to look. When I wanted to get a perm, the main character in the story would, of course, have curly hair. Thank you so much mom, for not letting me do it. I remember I was upset then, not liking my straight hair. But in my stories, I could have anything I wanted.
The books with my handwritten stories are still there somewhere, on a shelf in my old room, probably dusty, far away from here. I wrote them in my mother tongue. Back then, they meant a lot to me. They were my dreams. I kept dreaming about love even though I had not yet experienced it. Looking back, vaguely remembering what the stories were about, they seem so fragile, so genuine and hopeful. I think it was then that LOVE became my priority. I haven't changed one bit. Nothing will ever be more important to me than L O V E.
The stories were so sweet and innocent. Something along "And then, as they sat by the lake that evening, he slowly leaned over and she tasted his lips..." would be the usual type of ending. Most of the romantic encounters happened in summer, my favorite season. The stories were very popular in my class and I remember everyone was reading them eagerly. We were only sixteen, I guess we all had our dreams. Sometimes, I would write on request. The main characters' brief description, such as "He is tall and has a motorbike.", was provided to me and I wrote.
Now, some years later, I don't mind admitting it; that sixteen-year old girl is still a part of me. I don't think she'll ever leave. Love has definitely become more complex but it still brings me joys and pains just like in those stories. I still have my dreams, but I now I know how to make them my reality.(No I have never gotten a perm). I miss the innocence and simplicity, when she had tears in her eyes only because he didnít turn up at a party. But I never said I didn't like a challenge.
Margita got off the bus and smiled at the cheery sweaty driver who helped her with her suitcase. A moment after he closed the door, the bus disappeared in the distance, leaving a cloud of dust behind. As she stood there, not sure which direction to take, she looked down at her white running shoes and brushed a piece of fluff off her skinny tanned leg. It was a hot August afternoon and the sun was scorching. The sky was bright blue, the sun high up; the air didn't move. She knew her aunt was expecting her; where was she?
The two cousins and their aunt had dinner in the garden that evening. The sun had just set and the sky was getting darker by the minute. Margita put a piece of chicken into her mouth and looked at the crop that extended all the way to the fence at the back of the garden. The day was about to give up itís post and the crickets sang their songs along with the sound of sprinklers. As they started clearing the dishes, the small iron gate that led to the neighborís backyard squeeked and a silhuete came through.
As he came closer, Margita saw a young boy carrying a basket of apples. He was tall and quite thin, dressed in a white shirt and jean shorts. Even in the dark, she could see that he was very tanned, probably from spending days with friends by the lake, now that the school was out for the summer. She was planning to go there for a swim the next day with Silvia; it was only about a mile away from the small town. "We had way too many this season..." He said as he put the basket on the table.
"Thank you Mike. These are my nieces, Margita and Silvia. They came to spend a week here with me." They shook hands and exchanged awkward smiles. "How is your mum, is her knee better?" He confirmed. "Tell her I'll stop by tomorrow and please thank her for the apples. " Before he turned to walk away, Margita caught the curious look that he gave her. The only light was now coming from a small lamp mounted on the wall of the house, but she was quite sure it was there; the eye contact that stayed just a second or two longer.
I wake up with a slight headache. I get out of bed, walk into the hallway and open the main door, letting the sunbeams shine into the apartment through the screen door. Climbing back into bed, falling asleep again is hard as various thoughts start to run through my mind. Suddenly I hear a beautiful lullaby played on a piano, coming from the neighbor's next door. I immediately feel it's soothing effect, my eyes closing slowly. A minute later, the baby who the song was played for starts crying and I am wide awake. It's time to start the day.
Standing on the beach, the white sand feeling soft and warm beneath my feet, I am mesmerized by the ocean. Fascinated by the way it constantly moves, so graciously, sending powerful waves towards the shore, where they change from blue and green to foamy white until they quietly reach my pink toenails. I can't take my eyes off thousands of diamonds glittering on the surface of the water. I squint as I look into the bright sun and take in the perfect and uninterrupted blue of the sky. I take a deep breath; the ocean smells amazing. I am happy.
I donít think you have a problem connecting with people. I wonder why it bothers you so much. Do you know? I think you have established good relationships and if we move and your contact with people that you left behind becomes less frequent, I donít think there is anything wrong with that. I am still in touch with people I moved away from, but we donít interact as much as before, far from it, and it doesnít bother me. I know they are there for me and vice versa. No hard feelings. Thatís life.
You were called a social butterfly, so I donít even think that others see you the same way you see yourself. You asked me how do I start conversations so easily, but I donít think you see you can do the same. If not initiating a conversation, you respond positively to one initiated and thatís all it takes. Every time I speak to someone about you, I get more than positive reactions. You are very much liked and it takes some level of connection to be liked by others. I don't think you need to be concerned.
I am so happy about how everything has turned out. I appreciate it every single day. I get lost in insignificant every-day issues sometimes, but when I look at the bigger picture, I am so happy and appreciative of where I am. I'm appreciative of you. Forgive me for getting lost from time to time. I do see the big picture. Everything happens for a reason. There is a reason we are here. There is a reason we are together. I feel very lucky. It's unbelievable, this journey we have been on. I hope you don't mind the challenge.
Husband, husband come and eat my lentil soup. You said you wanted to eat less meat and start eating more vegetables, so stop typing on your computer and come and eat this wonderful lentil soup. It was your idea! So I made it tonight even though I had no idea how it was going to turn out. Itís ready and it smells lovely so stop staring at your computer and put some comedy on a come and eat this soup before it gets cold! I put fresh parsley on top .I know you will love it. Here he comes.
You are standing here and I wonder what you are trying to tell me. You have been so loyal and sweet over the last four years. Looking forward to me coming home; sleeping next to me at night. You are friendly to my friends and express concern when you sense I am sad. You never complain much when I don't feel like giving you attention, yet, you are always there to show your affection to me. Always there when I feel like kissing the top of your head or taking in the scent of your fur. Anybody speaks cat language?
I open the curtains and I squint a bit as the sun brightens the room. Another lovely warm day ahead with clear blue skies and dry sidewalks. I pick my outfit, completed with brown suede stiletto boots and soon I am on my way to work. I have always been fond of stilettos but back in the city with cruel winters full of snow and ice, wearing them was a bit hazardous. Nobody wears suede boots in Toronto during winter. I smile and listen to the clicks and clacks of my sexy boots on the pavement, putting on my sunglasses.
I am confused. I know you love me and you prove it all the time. So how is it possible that at the same time you keep doing something I told you makes me upset? I donít understand. What are you trying to achieve? Are you, in your own way, trying to help me? Are you doing it for me? I'd like to let you know that to me, it feels wrong. Are you doing it for you? I could see that happening, but I need to let you know that the result is that I feel not trusted.
"I love you" I say, to which he replies "I love you too..." I recently read an interesting article about how some find it easier to say the "L" word than others, who prefer to show their feelings in other ways. The title was "Saying I love you with filling up the gas tank". While I think I am the one who initiates saying it more frequently, I feel loved every single day. Whether it's the hot coffee with whipped cream or the breakfast that he makes for me or fresh water in my Brita filter every day. Thanks Love...
As I walk closer and pick them up from the rack, my heart starts beating slightly faster. They are exactly my size. These shoes areÖ breathtaking. They are ART. Long, thin stiletto heel wrapped in red suede; delicate straps made of the same material feeling unbelievably soft between my fingers, golden sole inside, golden fastenings. Shiny rhinestones lining the tiny strap over your toes. I take my running shoe off and slip one of the sandals on my bare foot. The red glittery stones among the stone collection match the nail color on my toe nails. I am in love.
How did we find each other? I believe we were meant to be together and to find one another. What is it about our personalities that allowed us to connect over such a distance and come as far as we have. What is it that causes us to hurt and stress each other as much as we have. As we rub against one another we both seem to sharpen our strengths and aggravate our wounds simultaneously. It is so early in our relationship and we have done so much so quickly. Enjoy that and relax like you always tell me.
Can you see how your goals and desires are distracting us from building a much needed connection. Why is it so hard for you to connect to people? You seem close to your friends and coworkers. Your friends who you havenít seen in 15 years call you (thank goodness they are mostly men). But I can see how when you move you would quickly lose contact with your coworkers. What happened, tell me why canít you connect and do you appreciate the connections you have been able to establish? I will help you, please help yourself as well.
I am confused. You said you trusted me. You also said we will go through this together. Now you took something into your hands and you left me out completely. I was supposed to deal with this my way, with your help. I told you I would. You said ok. So why did you take that option from me? I am confused and I don't know how to deal with it. I am only better when I don't think about it. But is that what you are trying to make me do? How could it ever work when it's forced?
We fell in love and started a life time journey together. So happy together, still, we have our differences. Some days it takes more effort to understand or come to terms with each other's points of view when they happen to differ significantly. You said we don't need to understand each other, just respect. I hear you... Still, I want you to know about me. I want to know about you. It's important to me to understand you. I'll always do my best. I know you will. The more you tell me about you, the easier it is to understand.
I come to pick you up from work. It's already dark outside and I am folding my arms to protect me from the evening chill as you rush to open the glass door for me. "What are you grinning about?" you ask with a smile and bend down to kiss me. "Nothing." I reply and walk in. I feel lighter, better than in the last four days. Since I met you, I have experienced so many different and intense emotions. Sometimes I hate you. I love you all the time. I smile because I see you and it's just you.
The Tip Jar