Four-and-a-half Months
From the Blog herekar - Four-and-a-half Months November 18th, 2010 Four and a half months. Since the wedding bells sounded for me. The sound rung deep and it rung sweet. I could feel it pulsate through my soul as I knew that the sound was transformative. For me, for her, for our lives. Now as I look back, it’s hard to fathom. The event. The time period. Digestion comes slowly as time rolls to the back of my throat, past the gullet and down the esophagus. A bittersweet drink, a nectar of the gods, a honeydew-laced teacup. I met her at home. I thought I would have to look far and wide, jump on the love boat and set sail across the seven seas. But she came in, uninvited. And there she was. Like disco lemonade. Her Greek sandals had me snickering. Her Winona-Ryder style haircut had me giving her furtive glances. She left soon. Like Hermes with a message of love. I asked my mom after she left if dinner was an option. She said it was more than that. She whispered that chances were that we could be the combination, just waiting for the taking and that they need to be jumped on before they escaped. So then I realized chances are what we make them and so I made them real. I courted and she flirted. I threw aside all my inconveniences and took in all the beauty that she had to offer. Six months and many excuses and possibilities later, we were married. It was all I dreamed it to be. Not that I dreamed of my wedding much but a wedding it was. I walked down the aisle with my grandfather looking on and up the ramp looking at my wife-to-be. Four and a half months. That's half a pregnancy. A little cry here, a tiny finger there. Pampers and Oskhosh B'Gosh clothing. That's a little person that you made. It's also responsibility akin to becoming the President of a nation. A tiny little nation. Somewhere in the Atlantic. Maybe a little Maldives. Taking care of all your subjects, including the queen of your hearts. Failure is not an option. Every man might be an island, a Robinson Crusoe but every family is equal to a Swiss Family Robinson. Sometimes I think about that little person while I'm lying in bed next to her, looking at her while she is sleeping, listening to her breathing. And then I think…this where I want to be. That little person will have to wait. I need to enjoy this bigger person more. See what she has to offer me. What I could present to her as I obey her commands. Four and a half months. That's the time that it takes for one semester. A freshman taking senior level classes. That new girl who sits at the back, not saying much. And then she's in your study group. And you're enjoying the class. And that's where you want to be. She's up there giving presentations. And you're hanging on every word that she's saying. And then you're making sure that all the classes you take have her in them. Four and a half months and I want nothing from her except just her. Four and a half months on testosterone with a mix of estrogen. It's been a rollercoaster like it ever was. From acting out WWE wrestling matches to romantic comedies, it's been a blur and time at a snail's pace. From Penang to Pompeii, from pina coladas to pepper steaks, it's all been about trying to make you feel like you're the only girl in the world. Four and a half months and all I want is you. Yawar’s blog
0 comments :
Post a Comment