May 12, 2014

The S.A.M. Story XIII


Opening her eyes, it took her a minute to remember where she was, orienting herself.  Morning had arrived but it was difficult not to fall back asleep as she had only slept a few hours, having sat on the couch thinking about him after leaving his room.  She had stayed there until the dawn had slowly come in, finally making her way to bed.  

Cognitively knowing it wouldn't change things didn't stop her from emotionally hoping she could alter time, and the results of the incoming day.  But the new day had arrived delivering like a newspaper, reality on its doorstep.

Lying there mulling over her need for assurance and commitment, she wanted to be someone else with less expectations; at least just this one time. Wanting to undo the night and have a chance at a "redo" like children often play.  Wanting to go back to sleep and wake up to a different life; one that someone else had planned out.  One, more like the fairy tales that give little and big girls that false sense and promise of happily-ever-after.  One that can be fixed with just a kiss.  But it was not to be, as it was her, in her life, not someone else causing the sadness to encompass her; causing her to feel alone.

He had woken up and started breakfast.  He wanted to make sure the fraction of time left together was a memorable departing affair.  The house smelled like fresh coffee.......and bacon.  The duct tape for food.  If only bacon could work to mend broken hearts too.  Music was once again his companion which he so needed right then, to soothe his ambiguity and disappointment, examining himself.

She showered and skillfully applied her make-up to cover her sleep deprived and saddened eyes.  Slipping on her blue cotton/spandex sundress she looked back behind her in the mirror pulling her hair to one side, to do the 'final check' (because that is what women do) and she saw the wings. She had forgotten about them and she faintly smiled as she remembered the day and the night before with conflicting feelings.  Both joyous and somber.  

The wings reminded her of angels in her shortened slumber- not knowing if they had actually come to her in her deep sleep or if it was only a played out thought she invented out of need.  Neither really mattered at this point, as she stepped into the kitchen, knowing their physical time together would soon be coming to a close.

In his serene way, his eyes warmly welcomed her.  He added 'beautiful' to everything but it was so different hearing it come from his lips and seeing it on his facial expression. "Good Morning Beautiful!".   "Nice tattoo!" he said with a wink and that infectious smile.  Receiving the greeting  in person- that she had heard solely via technological separation- now with a face, and a body, and a personal hug was the best greeting she had had in what seemed like forever!  He gently embraced her with a kiss, then took her hand in his and with his other one on her lower back started moving her rhythmically to the love song playing in the back ground.  Never again would a text be able to compare!

Her gloom was replaced with consoling peace; something he was gifted in offering. Something her memory recalled at their first convergence.  He had a way of healing a heart and could have been the awarded recipient and owner of real wings as he was an angel to her.  In the sense of fixing things, making them better, he was a mechanic, compassionately and painstakingly repairing and restoring the brokenness of a heart back to its functioning form.

It had been years since she had woken up to someone--someone happy to see her, someone with a sweet greeting, someone who thought she was beautiful.  Someone who saw her for all that she was.  

She had once heard someone with a handicap say that they wanted more than anything for others to see past their outer appearance and love them for what was inside.  Although unlike this person, that, not being her personal trial, she unexplainablely felt the same way about herself.  But he had told her early on that one of the most attractive things about her was her naive innocence and her humor, and her genuine caring, loving heart. 

It caused her to feel as if what he saw and loved on the inside had seeped through her skin transferring the beauty with it to the outside; so strongly that there was no way for her to conceal it.  That this was the beauty he saw in her and spoke of.  That this was the beauty that others saw radiating from her.  

Earnestly she asked herself,"What are you doing?!"   Trying to intensely recall, why she had been so adamant about the expectation of commitment.

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