Though we already knew how the cosmic collections of planets and galaxies served to be cruel to humanity, sometimes its evilness could be seen as a sincere heart that did not know how to execute kindness.
“You people should look at each other more,” the skies grumbled once, but the people on the street did not bear the weight of his words, they did not care enough to listen to him. Perhaps he had not spoken loudly enough, or perhaps humans were just as ignorant of the universe as they used to be, never learning their lesson. In a way, it was what birthed the situation of humanity as of the present; the deities had decided to silence the earth as soon as they had spoken a hundred and forty-three words in a day.
Was it too nonsensical? Somehow, it made sense to me. I had found myself deciding on what words were worth speaking.
Greeting my mother a 'good morning' every day, an 'excuse me' in the grocery store where I run my errands, a 'sorry' to the guy I bumped in the road today—and most of all, an “I love you” to my best friend, to the one I came home to. I always saved enough for the people important to me.
But, there were times when I ran into a pinch and I used up all of my words without realizing it.
It was the day when she and I argued on the phone.
I hadn't realized that I only had a few left. I had only discerned it when I had to put the phone down, after telling her to 'leave me alone.' It was like being doused in cold water, the hideous glowing number two floating on my nightstand.
My lips trembled. It was not worth losing her over a petty argument. There are a thousand things I wanted to say—or maybe a more reasonable number like ten, the number of minutes we had called on the phone. Or five, the number of years we had been together. Maybe only three, the simple words of 'I love you' condensed into one thought, just like that. But it had not been possible for I had only two words left to utter.
So, I called her again. I didn't even know if she'd pick up, but I would call her until she did. Just like all those times, we'd argue over things bigger than ourselves, but it all came back to her in the end. I wanted you, I loved you, let's fix this. Slow, lovely, and easy. And it might not have been uttered completely into words, but it was always easy looking into each other and knowing what she meant.
But this wasn't the same—we weren't together as she still had her business trip. And it frightened me to think about what would happen if I waited for the next day without resolving whatever happened between us two.
She picked up, breathing into the phone. Maybe she had used up all of her words for today. Resolutely, I settled on what I wanted to say:
"Come home?"
A beat of silence.
"Tomorrow."
Maybe that was her last one for the day. Maybe she had also saved up a word for me in case this happened. Maybe it had all been a coincidence.
But, it was enough. This was what love was meant to be; coming home to your best friend, holding the weight of twenty years in her hand, and writing awful poems for her.
This is what love is; not caged in the three words we hear so easily, but found in the things we are willing to do for the person we come home to.
No comments:
Post a Comment