Hourglass

She was lying in bed, her head at the bottom like she normally does so her phone can charge while she talks. Her arm was outstretched, her hand aimlessly fiddling with the rip in the beige sheet. She sat up for a moment, her giggles fading but a grin still evident on her face. She exchanged the pillow she had for the two softer ones at the top of the bed, piling them and situating the phone on the pillow and her face against the phone. She sighed gracefully and allowed her eyelids to close for a few seconds, listening intently and drifting into another world as the beauty and wonder of his mind surrounded her.

“Close your eyes,” he told her. He told her to think of something that was on her mind and think of symbols and make a picture in her head. She smiled bashfully at that, even though he couldn’t see. She could never see the world like he did. After opening her eyes she gazed out the window, her eyes curiously dancing along the scene of the branches that blew and bobbed in the breeze. All of the leaves had finally fallen off. She had been observing the number of brittle, decaying leaves that were dangling timidly on the uneven, tapering branches every morning and every night.

She used her index finger and thumb to form a circle which she used to look through, singling out certain places of the tree. She often did the same with the glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling at night, but the sun had just come up and the emptiness of the branches was much more attractive and natural. Her vision fluttered around, tumbling and turning around the shape of the branches, looking in between the gaps the overlapping branches made. She could see the shape of a bird… a sparrow with its wings gliding in the wind and its mouth open, coming in for a landing at the sight of a worm on the ground. She closed her eyes and saw the sparrow landing, the ground spattered with patches of grass and fallen leaves, and the bird swiftly scooping up the squirming worm.

She closed her eyes and smiled gently, still listening to his voice as he talked about the world and people. He was drawing and his mind was open. It was beautiful and she was getting sucked in, content with the feeling of bliss she had. He always had that effect on her. He could stop her mind from being restless. He could get her to stop thinking and just feel.

Her eyes landed on the end of a branch that looked like caterpillar’s cocoon. She hadn’t seen many caterpillars that year. She could see two eyes in the branches, one closed and one open with thick eyelashes. It looked like someone was blinking. Her own eyes settled on the vision of the two and she became entranced. It was kind of like looking at clouds… but better. She hadn’t looked for objects in clouds in quite a while. The eyes seemed so detailed… so real. She wondered if it was even there… if it only looked like that to her. It’s amazing what the mind can do. It wouldn’t be the first time she looked at something and then did so again later on only to question what she had seen previously. But that didn’t matter… she saw it and it was there, if only for the moment. She felt the wonder and it made her smile… and that’s what mattered. That’s what he taught her. Life revolves around perception anyway. Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.

She closed her one eye and pretended to trace the lines and curves of the branches with her fingers, all the while thinking about the person on the other end, talking about how woman’s hips are like an hourglass and how a man’s are just a W. He was still calming, always amazing. He sees things that are so incredible… he sees so much beauty. He’s so amazing and he sees such amazing things… He’s going to overwhelm me with beauty, she thought.

Her mind kept repeating a silent mantra to herself and she fought the urge to interrupt him and say it over and over until he believed her. After he was done, she was still basking in the galaxy of his mind, of his passion, of his voice. She still had that smile plastered on her face, still had that line resounding in her head. You’re amazing, you’re amazing, you’re amazing. She told him that when he was finished, multiple times, each time he disagreed and that only propelled her to repeat it some more. She had an undying urge to keep saying it, because she was high off of how spectacular he is. She needed to say it, and he needed to hear it, so she said it however many times she did. He didn’t believe her, but she meant it and he knows she meant it. One day, she thought.

Turning her head and grabbing the phone, she was careful not to rip the plug out of the wall. She pulled the covers up to her shoulders to block the draft she felt from laying under the window and closed her eyes, reeling in her high as an inner calmness settling in. Perfect, perfect, perfect.He truly is. It’s moments like that that no one has ever created, no one had ever brought her that bliss. And he doesn’t even try. He’s just himself and it’s the most amazing thing. The most amazing person, she’s sure. That’s what it feels like and that’s what she believes.

They say life isn’t measured by how many breaths we take, but how many moments take our breath away. He never fails to do that by just talking, just by thinking, drawing, or loving. Experiencing him do all that he does is life, and they’re all breathtaking.

With her eyes closed and her thoughts blurring, going down different roads all leading to sleep, a scene formed in her mind. Cocoa, candles, cold, and covers. What do you want? She wants to lie in bed and cuddle and talk… She wants to listen to his voice and sleep. To curl up in a ball, under a rock if they must, as long as they’re together. She wants to witness him think, talk, draw, and love. She wants to wonder some more because she’s not an artist and she doesn’t see things like he does, but she sees so much more beauty in life because of him. All the beauty in him and all of the beauty that he makes because he’s the perfect example of life and what’s worth living for. He’s fascinating and he’s brilliant, gentle, calming, and amazing.

The moments where neither of them knows and they ask each other why or what, the answers that may or may not be there, that may or may not get answered, it all leads to that nothing that makes it okay to not know. What do you want? It matters but it doesn’t matter.

What do you want?

Nothing that you haven’t given me and nothing that you already aren’t.

What do you want?

Let’s sleep until the sun comes up, or longer if you want, curled up under covers, not cold, with cocoa and candles. And your voice and visions and everything that’s beautiful. All I want is you.