For you, again
This morning, I woke up with sand in the sheets, on the floor, in my shoes. Small proof that it was real, that I hadn't just dreamed it. Last night on the beach, we watched the moon change from silver to dusky red, heat lightning flashing in the distance. We stood close, heads bent, whispering words back and forth, until I forgot which were mine and which were yours.We walked back to the car, shaken and dazed, your hand warm in mine. I wanted to say hold on to me but I didn't have to; you already knew. In the car I told you the answer was always yes. Yes, yes, yes, so that you wouldn't have to ask again.
Smile, you tell me and I do. I'm worried my face will give away our secret, that soon, everyone will know. But still, I can't help myself.
Today as I was leaving you asked me to write something for you, as if it were that simple. You think it's something special, this thing I do, this thing even I don't understand. A talent, you called it, but that word doesn't seem to fit. There is no skill required to open your heart, to let the words come as they will. It's my hand that moves across the page but these words, this feeling, is all your doing.
There isn't a name for it, or enough words to describe it, what's happening. I had given up on finding happiness. Then you came and offered this unexpected gift and for that, I'm grateful. In the end, we may find out that all of this was just a dream. But until then, I hold these moments close to me, as beautiful and mysterious as the moon.
posted by writingblind at 6:44 PM
21 Comments:
What is his name?
Who did you fall in love with?
You see how Punk Rock I am? I am on vacation, yet I found a way to check your blog.
Oh, and you will never get me to stop thanking you.
You can't just go writing stuff like that, man. Said people might be reading this blog right now for christ's sake.
You are totally punk rock, though and seriously, you will stop thanking me or else I will drive to the desert and kick your ass. People are really responding well to the poem though, so I'm glad I could send some people your way.
Lovely post!
I've been catching up on my blog reading of late, so this comment should be considered to cover all posts from "In Love With Everything" to now.
I used to have a problem accepting compliements about my writing too. The feeling was that I simply wasn't any good and that anything that was good was an accident that I couldn't take responsibility for - like making a great pool shot when I hardly play pool. "It was slop," I'd say. I got lucky.
People like to feel that they recognize good things, so deflecting their compliments is like telling them they don't know anything. Well, they do know what they like, and they like you and your writing (I like your writing a lot Rebecca, if you want to submit something to PFANM, it'll be a lock, come on.)
It was the writer Bobbie Louise Hawkins who set me right on this. She told me that if compliments made me uncomfortable what I should say is this: "Thank you, but I'm not half as good as I want to be."
That way, I respect the audiences compliments while at the same time letting them know that I expect so much more from myself.
Of course when you say you're not half as good as you want to be, the audience will faint trying to imagine exactly how good that will be.
Quite beautiful. And what a feeling. Such a connection you create with your words, bringing back my own memories of time spent on the beach.
Beautiful writing. The emotions lift right off the screen as I read it.
Rand, I love that picture! I think you're giving Moncrief a run for his money in the just-adorable department.
Quinn, that is the best advice I've ever heard. I'm trying really hard not to be so negative but it's tough, so thank you.
Scott, it's a little sappy, I know but sappy's about all I've got these days. I promise this'll be the last of the gooey love posts for a while.
Gerald, I'm glad you liked it. I feel like I'm on emotion overload lately so I really will stop now. :)
Beautiful. You're a lucky girl.
Hey, I was just coming over to visit you. We'll see how long my luck holds out. I'm going to stop blogging about it now because I'm pretty sure everyone's sick of hearing about it. :)
From your heart to your fingers. That's always the best.
Ahhh, I havent had that connection in too long.
Revel in it!
Oh, I plan to. I'm just worried that I'm making everyone else sick. I can't help it though, I'm so happy right now. Ugh, now I'm making myself sick.
I am totally enjoying the gooey love posts. Makes me feel good for you.
Fringes, thank you, thank you, thank you. It makes me feel good too. I probably shouldn't say this because he actually does read this blog but I'm so scared he's going to disappear or I'll wake up from this dream.
Great post, Rebecca. I know you've a habit of saying "these things" aren't "real" writing, but I hope, too, you realize this thing has "real" writing all over it.
Chad, thanks. Do I really talk in all quotes like that? :P
I don't think so, no. Sorry if I misused some quotes.
That makes me think of my cousin's daughter, who when she was eight or nine must have been watching some old SNL episodes, because she started using air quotes all the time, but she would use them totally inappropriately. After I asked her a question, for instance, she would say "Whatever, [insert air quote here] Chad [close air quote]." And I'd say, but Chad's my name, Brit, you don't need to put air quotes around it. And she'd reply, "Oh, [air quotes] sure [close air quotes] it is."
It was its own brand of comic genius.
That last part had me rolling on the floor. That is pure comic genius.
He's a lucky guy.
No, no, no. I'm the lucky one.
Bah!
No, I'm not the lucky one?
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