Summers and Winters

There is something about love that is too scary. This crosses her mind as she lies next to him. It is at 2 am, when all that silence engulfs the world that she sits up and her mind goes to work. She stares at him in longing. She admires how peaceful he can sleep right next to her and not wonder about what comes next. She walks out to the balcony where the wind blows his shirt across her skin. She shudders. Then she sits on the chair and stares in wonder.

He hates this about her. He should love it, he said he loves everything about her. He wonders what could be on her mind that she had to walk out at this hour to figure out. He hates this about her because it challenges him. Her thoughts rob him of her, and that is what he hates most about them. Her thoughts, he cannot penetrate but can only wait until she is ready to briefly say what they are about, in a sentence.

-I couldn’t find you next to me; I almost thought it was all a dream

She turns to find him at the doorway, he sneaked up on her

-Me?

-Yes you

She smiles and looks away…he simply stares

-Can I ask what it is?

She takes a deep breath and walks towards him

-They have never made a song about the mid period

He seems puzzled; he tries to read her thoughts from her face without success

-You switch the radio on, you scroll through any playlist, or the tv and you will always hear about new love. When it’s all magical. When you can still call me a dream.

-You are my dream

-It is all about when you meet him, when his phone call makes your heart skip a bit, when wearing his shirt you can take in his scent and it stays with you. When he holds your hand on the street to show you off. When he gets out of bed at 2am because you are not by his side. When he can still call you his dream.

-You are my dream

She walks back to the chair and sits quietly. Her thoughts have always been too much for her to handle and she just feels that if she pours it all out he might get scared. People have never loved deep waters, they would settle for the cliché because they cannot question what next. She would always see five steps ahead. It always means that she knows summer will be hot and exciting. Full of promise but then winter comes and she likes to wrap her head around it because she will be warming up in warm clothing and then winter won’t be so cold.

-They also love singing about the end. When your heart is shattered and you can’t stop crying because you thought he was your everything. When he goes and you think to yourself that God brings such a guy around early so that you will know the pain of loss.

It is 2 am and she is questioning thoughts in music writing. He tries to figure out what it is that she is trying to tell him but long before he had figured out that her art with words was hers alone. She was the only one able to use so many words to talk about a song, a sound. He loved this about her, her art side because it complemented his lack of it. She could paint his world with her words. She was the art and her art was beautiful. He was the one who would think of a song as a song, but she would think of the words in the song and the romance. The memories the song would hold for her. Good memories, some bad. She would always let him know when a song that made her think of him played. She definitely was his dream.

-I want a song that talks about when summer is over and all the red is fading to dark shades.

He is still staring at her, and then he lights up a cigarette and sits beside her.

-I want a song about when my art does not intrigue you and when you look at me and my heart does not skip a beat. Not to mean that we lost that love, but to mean that the veil lifted and revealed the mystery and we just find it….normal. I want a song about how you can still hold my hand, to show me off, even if I got fat, because I am your best friend. Okay that you can choose to.

He chuckles.

-When it gets tough, I want a song that makes me tougher.

-Why do you want to travel light?

-I want to stand on the cliff and jump, but after a lot of lies, I want to know that after the free fall, at the bottom rock, that the land is soft.

-I can catch you when you fall

-Now. You can catch me now when I fall, when I am still your dream and it won’t be a fall, it will be tripping.

-And you will not be fat

She laughs hard at this, a laugh he finds familiar.

-Everything comes in new, and wrapped up. You unwrap them and they are no longer new. Then with time, they get a scratch, then a couple more. Eventually they do not look too nice and you cannot polish them. What do you do with pieces which are not glamorous and attractive anymore? Put them on a shelf and forget?

He takes a deep breath, and turns to her and stares deeply into her eyes

-All my life, the things I have never regretted doing or not doing are the moments I have lived fully. Here, now, you and me, I feel like I am living fully. Is there a song for this moment? A lot. I know that there will be a moment when the beautiful glass piece gets a scratch, I will take it and I will polish it for you if you are willing to let me. No one has the answer on how to live or leave, but time does let you know whether to live or leave. When the glass gets a scratch you polish it, or you paint it, or you further the scratch to give it a design, you do not always have to wonder what to do with it.

Life always had a way of surprising her.

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