Friday, February 24, 2012

My Someday Post..

Someday I wish to marry a man who inspires me. Ofcourse this will not be his sole purpose or only attribute, but just one of the many pleasantries of our already delightful marriage. I wish to be able to look at him from across the kitchen table and see visions of a whole new world, or of a kingdom in turmoil, or of a boy trying to become a man, or a young enthusiast set out to find themselve, or maybe just a little girl who lost the shiniest red button on her new red sweater that her grandmother had given to her wrapped with a kiss and big purple ribbon. I would to look from my cream colored coffee to his black sugary abyss and be able to imagine up a complete underwater world complete with mystical colorful creatures, some big, some small, some blue some orange, all from a watery city far below the coral reef, with little homes made from seashells and an evil dictator whose suit was too tight and whose wife was a blowfish. After breakfast we'd sit together on our porch swing and while he read the daily news, I'd play with his hand that rested in mine, and as our feet swung back and forth I would suddenly know the sensation of jumping from an airplane. The anticipation burning in my lungs as I gulped just enough air to stay alive, and peering out the small cut out in the plane I'd be able to see nothing but clouds and different colored squares that made up the face of our little planet. "Are you ready?!" the instructor would yell with a cheesy smile. "Yes!", I'd yell back while everything in me was screaming, "You've gone insane!"... We take a step for the door. "Three!"- oh goodness I don't know if i can do this. I hold my hand to the edge of the cut out. "Two!"...wait I've changed my mind... "One!"
And I'd be back on the swing fiddling his wedding band, humming my favorite song. Later, after the days sun had yawned its last and retired behind the horizon, we'd sit along the window seal, counting stars by the millions. I'd lay my head on his shoulder and wonder about the man in the moon. I'd wonder if he'd ever been in love? In real love. The can't eat, can't sleep, to infinity and beyond, over the fence, world series kind of stuff. I could only imagine his bride, she'd have the softest smile, kindest eyes, she haven't an ounce of judgement in her character; her laughter would heel a broken heart and her tears could send a warrior weeping. She'd wait out in a far off galaxy, waiting for her groom, waiting for the day the world stops turning and her handsome prince could sweep her off her feet.
Laying down to bed, I'd roll to my side and ask my husband what he thought of my stories. He'd slowly look over at me, gently kiss me on my forehead and whisper "I love them all"; leaving me with no doubt that he is my only story worth telling.