I wrote something today that I think you’ll love. If you manage to get to my place today I can show you. It sounds a little like what Charles M. Schultz’s comic on what love is, “Love is baking fudge together, love is liking people, love is tickles, love is sharing…” It looks like a seventy four year old couple holding hands, it feels like fresh towels on your skin, it sounds like a dance, a beating drum, or a great big shout atop a hill, or a rooftop, over a busy street. It looks, feels and sounds a little like that.
Sometimes I wonder how to describe that feeling. But I think, if I can, it’s this:
You know when you’re in the car on the road during a drive back home, or when you’re taking a dump; or when you’re in the midst of pulling a shirt over or off your head, or cutting carrots and onions looking over boiling soup? You’re suddenly caught off guard when in that vignette of a moment where you’re busy making vinaigrette, something started to feel like it was missing … and it’s not the salt.
It is like when you’ve just sat down on your chair, about to open a book, or when you’re just about to take a picture of some friends posed in front of the camera, or even when you caught a glimpse of a familiar commercial on TV. It is in all those moments, in any sort of quiet time of the day by yourself, in that small window of time, thoughts of you come unexpected.
I suddenly feel like I want to smell you. I see you clearly, I begin to feel your shoulders by my face, and suddenly I notice how much your smell is not there, or how immaterial you are, and how your shoulders are in fact, not hitting the side of my face, and I suddenly wished you were right there doing all these mundane things with me.
It’s so that I can say something to you as I open my book to read, or so that you can hug me from behind as I cut carrots and onions, or how when I’m in the car on the road in my drive back home, I wished you were the one in the driver’s seat. It’s even like when I’m taking a ginormous dump, I want you to be outside reading on the bed so I can shout something to you while you get annoyed at how gross it is that I’m talking to you while taking a shit. Something like that.
The feeling like I could be doing anything in the world at any one moment, and I just want you to have a stake in that moment, to be right beside each other, sharing a day, a moment, or a life together.
The effects of it, that is, love, is very much like that Charles M. Schultz comic, It makes you like people more, it makes me want to bake fudge with you, and it makes me want to laugh at tickles, when I otherwise would have liked to punch people in the face.
Something like that…