Someone once told me to look at something like I’ve never seen it before. And notice the little details in it to the extent that I could trace them with my eyes closed on the palm of your hand when I tell you stories. The lines that wrinkle at the edge of her eyes when she laughs. His fingers tapping on my shoulder in a tune to some melody in his head. How the ring in his forefinger reminds me of a dragon. How her chin stuck out and weighed a laugh that reminded me of home. That kind of details.
And then there are stories.
Casual moments caught in the frame of time that tell a story. It could be a giant ruk tree that yawns above or Buddha statues clad in yellow robes meditating in a row. An old lady smiling at the dawn of sunlight. It could be something completely trivial to someone who is too busy to notice..
People have so much to tell even though they appear to be silent. Sometimes I wonder how a person can keep all those thoughts and emotions locked up inside them, and why they haven’t overflown out of them like water breaking out of dam. I want my life to be about these people I share it with. The people I love who have influenced me and have added into my life. Not reduced from it. I want to talk about them. Them and their stories. The people who have crossed my path, about how they add to me and my thoughts. I want them to trust me enough to exchange their stories, and know that their secrets are safe with me. I want to talk about the person who gave birth to me and about the person who gave everything to me and watched me grow. I want to talk about the strong women in my life, who have drowned in sorrow from trials that were forced on them and how they survived, and struggled out of them, chocking and gasping for life. I want to talk about friends. Friends who visit me when I least expect them to. And friends who make me laugh uncontrollably, for no particular reason, who know me so well that they can almost read my thoughts, even from the other side of the world. I want to talk about the men I fell in love with, how their dynamics keep on twisting and churning with mine as they switch from stranger to friend to lover to a mark on my skin that will never fade. I want to talk about how his hands are different from yours and how differently yours fit in mine. I want to talk of how you make me laugh, and how you giggle and look away when you are shy. I want to share my energies with you, and I want you to share yours with me. I don’t want to be the person snap chatting and facebooking each day because I would rather spend my energy making talk, or even no talk at all because we’re so busy looking at the sky and trees in real time. I want to adopt a baby girl one day and surround her with little baby animals for her to play with. I want to show her that the world hasn’t forgotten her. And that the world is still beautiful. I will give her what the beautiful women in my life have given me. Strength and hope.
When I meet her, she will be old enough to know that the world is cruel, but young enough to have faith in it. And then I will teach her that although the world is a dark and treacherous place, it can still be beautiful when you reach out and make a difference in someone’s life. I will teach her the magic of dance, and sway with her on my hip. I will teach her how to be strong even when the whole world threatens to break her down, just like my mother taught me. If someone were to ask her why she doesn’t look like me, I will teach her to reply with a “That’s because I’m adopted” because I think everyone should be proud of who they are and their circumstances no matter how difficult or different it seems. I will grow old with her and live to be the lady who doesn’t mind a house cluttered with lots of books and plants and animals living in it with us. I want them, to imprint positive energies in me, so that I can imprint it on someone else. Because in the end, all that matters is how softly you walked with someone’s soul and how you made them feel.
Picture by Chatrini Weeratunga whose blog I now can’t find. It had all the pictures in it that inspired me to write this.
p.s. If we are close, I hope you recognise yourself hidden somewhere in the words. 🙂