Today the sky is nothing at all. It’s like a child began to draw on it with a pencil and then erased it in a way that smudged and spread the grey. And all the while the rain streaks down, invisible until it hits the sodden ground.
It is an endless canvas that colors are tossed upon. Some days it is a pure, uninterrupted blue that stretches seamlessly across my field of vision. When the sun rises, it is a child’s painting, bright pinks and oranges piled on top of each other, reflecting off low hanging clouds and filling the world with a haze of wonder. When it storms, the harsh glow of lightning illuminates the gathering piles of dull grey clouds that are angrily pushing against each other. At night, the moon glows, giving the speckle of stars a guide light. The sky is alive, growing at each passing moment, a constant changing canvas for the world to see.
I’m lucky enough to see her everyday when I wake up in the morning. I love everything about her. I love how she smiles, the way butterflies seemed to escape from the pit of her stomach and the way the sun had somehow toppled down from the sky and made a home right there in her heart. She had the kind of smile that made you feel happy to be alive and just that little bit more human. I love how in her embrace the world would stop still on its axis. And there would be no time, no wind, no rain. And her eyes are just something else. I can look at her eyes all day. They were the colour of a clear blue sky through a broken prison wall; the colour of a perfect raindrop on a blue aster; the colour of a river hurrying to join the great ocean. “I am lucky,” I thought to myself.
Dec. 23rd: We went Christmas shopping. We lured through the aisles in local department stores. We put on pure Rock and Roll songs since “All I Want for Christmas is You” has never really quite hit our mood around these holiday seasons, or anyday whatsoever. She would hum a Christmas tune to herself, only heard by those that stood close. And we would end up singing so loudly together. She would grab my hands and make my dance with her, no matter where we are whenever a song that she likes comes up. I can just feel her hands tingling. We would always get distracted by the vintage stores in Newtown, so much that we would visit a dozen stores before we actually make up our minds with what we’re going to buy. I love looking at her choosing things. I love looking at her prancing through the shops without a care in the world, with her headphones and the way her feet taps the ground listening to Queen. No one knew someone could be so energetic getting wrapping paper for gifts, yet there she was. Sometimes I even hid behind the fabrics in a ridiculous manner hoping she wouldn’t see me. Of course she could see me, but in the end she only giggled and rolled her eyes. When we were together, it seems like it was just us and our silly little jokes.
Dec. 24th: We started writing cards to everyone. It was a rainy afternoon when we decided to make our favorite cup of tea and look at the pouring rain outside our window. It would have been any Sunday afternoon if we didn’t realize it was Christmas Eve. And the year is ending. So soon. She has always liked handmade goods. She would spend weeks on a gift for someone, not even someone particularly special, just some lucky guy whose birthday is when she feels like making gifts for someone. She would give me little jars out of nowhere, and every morning she would fill the jar with paper cranes and tiny sparkly handmade hearts. I managed to check what my card said, despite her telling me not to ruin the surprise. It read: “Create and move forward. Sunny days don’t mean happy days. A flower smiles, even with rainy days.” Next to it was a drawing of a smiling flower.
Dec. 25th: I was wrapping the gifts when she came home. Her hair soaking wet and her whole body damped with rainwater. “Need an umbrella?” I asked. Probably not a good time for sarcasm. I took her inside and prepared a hot bath for her. I remember her telling me how she loves taking hot baths and how she loves grapevine and oak candles. She came out, eyes glistened when she saw the bows and the wrapping paper. She wrapped each gift slowly always stroking each box like it was a precious possession. She got creative with the bow sometimes putting it on the side or on the bottom of the box. We fell asleep wrapping the gifts, listening to Fuel.
And Christmas is another 365 days away.
This is just a little something I wrote on the plane coming back home. I only finished it today since it is indeed Christmas. Have a nice holiday and I hope you all enjoy the gifts and laughter.