The orange mid-February sunlight finds its way through the leaves and vines outside the balcony to highlight the first few lines on the small book she is reading. A slow ballad with light guitar plucking and the regular accentuated bass is playing from the stereo set nearby. The vocal sounds like a lullaby for adults, comforting and almost incomprehensible.
He picks up the sweaty glass of tea glistened by the ray from the window and takes a sip, his eyes glued at the lazy figure lying on the couch who now has her full attention on the novel. Her fingers are caressing the upper lip. She always does that when she gets lost in thought. He wants to walk over and plant a kiss on those palpable lips but the picture in front of him now is so perfect it feels like a crime to disturb it.
It has always been like this. Whenever he takes a step back and sneak a peering at her, he finds the rare peaceful Beauty that no cruelty in Life can wash away.
When they first met, he was helpless, deep in the dark and cold forest of self-exploration. He had ventured into that uncharted territory for years and the toll of those trips had started to outweigh his youth. He entered that endless journey with the curiosity of a lonely child who had nobody to talk to but himself. As time passed, he started searching for answers inside that realm of unknowns. The more time he spent in his own head, the more distant he became to the outside world. It became a cycle, vicious or not. When he stepped out to the real world, he often found himself toggling between extreme ends. Those trips to understand himself had developed a huge ego and stubbornness on what he knew and belief while simultaneously reinforced the lack of confidence in what he wasn’t good at. At heart, he knows he is still the shy boy who used to climb through the same window stool he is sitting on.
To say that he was lost then was an ambiguous understatement. He was rummaging in the dark but he was aware of the risk. He couldn’t resist it. But the journey is lonely and weary. The biggest struggle for a man is an inward one. Unfortunately, people often opt to fight with others rather than with themselves.
Then she appeared. Every time he thinks about it he still finds his luck too good to be true. That first night, they talked for five hours until the bar closed and the moon started descending. He felt himself at ease for once after a long time. It wasn’t what she did. It has never been what she does. It is her presence that brings Hope and Safety to his life. She has listened to his stories for years. It’s not that she can understand them all. Nobody can, not even him. All she does is just to be there. Her voice gives him company; her eyes brings him light; her kiss is his strength; her arms are his shelter. He is still lost in that forest, but he is no longer alone.
He feels the moisture at the corners of his eyes as he watched her flipping the page. He smiles and mouths a “Thank you” as he feels the droplets running down his nose. Feeling someone’s gaze on herself, she looks up and tilts her head to look at him.
“What’s up?” She asks with a voice that can bring him to his knees right there and then.
“Nothing honey.” He smiles back.
All his life he has been fighting incessantly with himself and the world. He has battered to become someone to the world. In that perpetual war, he has won some and lost some. He entered those fights knowing full well the futility of it all. He struggled because it was simply a part of life, not because he was looking to gain something meaningful out of it.
But at this moment, he finds the reason for it all. He finds the meaning for everything he has done that has led him to this very scene. This Beauty in front of him right now is worth it all. His whole life he has never asked for much. He just wants to have enough.
And this. This is enough.
t/p
