Hello, my December lullaby.
I hope this letter finds you well. I hope you’re still wearing that smile. It’s the most beautiful thing I ever saw on someone. I hope you still make the sun shy every time you open your eyes. I know how much you dislike to read, but I hope just this once you could embrace this words my heart wrote and I could tell you a story. It’s one about hope and what it means to me. It goes something like this…
One day I walk into a house, open the door and there she is. That’s it, nothing else and nothing more before or after that. She was a tango of chaos and beauty, a tornado of roses in the starlit sky. She was at once the quiet and confusion of my heart. And the way my lungs gasped for air, my eyes turned bright and my skin became flaming red from the stream of hot lava flowing underneath… it was like I was born again. I knew then she was the life I’ve been longing for since the first time I gazed upon this world. And there I was… for the first time, gazing upon my world through an open door.
Since then, I’ve been spending my time walking into houses, cafes, libraries, anything that as a door really… just hoping I’ll open the door and she’ll be there. Like she did the first time. Maybe she would be sitting somewhere, her fingers lightly dancing with the tea cup, unaware of anything. She would turn to look at me and it would all begin again.
You see, when life finds you it doesn’t ring the bell, there’s no breaking news on the prime time slot. It’s a moment, a single second of bursting happiness, promising an eternal summer. You just have to be there to notice, and, trust me, you notice.
And that is what most people don’t realize. Because we, as humans, are always so busy looking for ways of dividing everything, our days, our seasons, our life’s. Always searching for some pointless definition of what it is to be alive. Nature doesn’t know of our rules, she never did. She just blurs from the ground and sky, breathing new, without warning or care. She happens, free from our own lines of separation.
And so it is my love for her – wild, free, untainted. No barriers, no distance, no human built lines on the floor. I will always carry that love with me, guarded from any human intervention. And I hope, someday, somewhere, somehow, she will be on the other side of the door, with the same hope that gets me out of bed every morning.
That’s it, a story of hope and how I came about her, my life, my hope. I hope this letter finds you sleeping by now and I hope it can reach your eyes in the morning and dress you up with a smile of hope. Sleep tight and dream a lullaby.
The hopeless dreamer.
*inspired by Lang Leav’s “Hope”