Every now and then (or actually, pretty frequently), I get mental visions of scenes to write or characters who just want a brief moment of time to be alive. The following two are just that. Both were written in early March of 2021.
March 1, 2021
She was stunning. Not that she behaved as if she noticed but everywhere we went, people crowned their necks about stealing one more glance at her. It wasn’t at me. It isn’t self-deprecation. I am pretty. She is stunning. She is magic walking, the sun gleaming off her chestnut hair like shined mahogany, rays of deep brown and red reflecting back at any casual observer.
You’d think I’d be jealous or insecure but I understood. I knew what it was like to stand in the brightness of her gaze or the honey sweetness of her intellect. I could feel drenched and caught in her words, each sentiment she ushered forth making me feel like more having listened to her and beaming in the warmth of her gaze. She was mine. She wasn’t a prize I had won but she was mine for a time and I was entirely hers. I felt honored to share her with the world.
March 3, 2021
She came to me, all strength and cracked edges. I’d listen to her sing and she was steel: resolute and powerful. Off-stage she’d fall into my arms, sobbing. I held her together in the gales of her tears. I was buffeted by her winds but held firm, holding her, and she wailed.
She’d sag into my arms when the storm passed. I’d kiss her cheeks and fold her close, brushing my hand across her hair. She would be spent but still, iron in my hands. So close I could breathe her in, tasting her fear and drive on the back of my tongue. I felt like a wind break- her shelter.
In all of our life, I let her lead. She was a thunderhead, the leading edge of us as a force in the world. I was her cloud break and her soft showers in the aftermath. I’d always had drive and strength. It wasn’t until I had her that I realized I could be the buttress to a much larger lightning storm. I held her up to play against the sky and I got to be the melody to her overarching verse. I coasted beneath her, in day and in stardust, and she never made me feel like the background.
I was her structure; she was my fireworks. I was happy to let her be the color. So long as I got to be the earth she drifted back to. And drift she did. And I cradled her. I let her cry and kissed away her tears.
I stood behind and bathed in her glow. She was a show to behold. Behind our doors, she soared as my eagle and I was able to finally breathe and give up my duties. There she held me and held me up. Her stardust settled on me and let me be free.