The Soulful Atom

It’s a summer afternoon. The sun is really putting his back into it this time. That’s what we say each passing year: “This has been the hottest summer yet.” Today, Dad looked up some info online, like he always does, and he found out that we are still in some sort of ice age apparently. I think it’s towards the fag end of it, probably. Having no desire to do any work, and the AC having weirdly stiffened my limbs, I’m just lying around in the room, looking out through the French windows. There seems to be some kind of summer breeze going on. I wonder how it would be to step out and giggle at the thought—just as you appear in the doorway. It’s as if you sense a change in my emotions before it happens. “I’m taking a break. Do you want to do something? Grab a lemonade and chill maybe—wink wink.” My giggle turns to a laugh. You are so cute! I say yes to a lemonade and try to get up—or feign more like—and spread my arms out, reaching for you. You jump in immediately without a second thought or question. A huge cuddle later, we head to the kitchen. My limbs seem to be functioning now. I sit at the table in my laziness and watch you work on that classic lemonade. I remember, since the day I first met you, you always took it upon yourself to do things. You just naturally did it. Back then, I didn’t realise it was natural and so obvious. It was your house, I was a guest. But even now, all these years later, you are still the same. You don’t let me do much of the menial work. I wonder—do you still think of me as a guest? A rueful smile escapes me, and you notice with your side eye, which is always on me—listening, seeing, paying attention. “What is it now?” you feign seriousness and then grin. I grin back. “Nothing.” The lemonade is ready. You bring out two chilled glasses to the table and ask me if I would like to sit on the balcony. You know I love balconies. I contemplate. You wait. You have work to get back to, but you wait—for me—with that eternal patience of yours. I nod and grin. It’s hellfire outside, but we sit there looking out. You inch closer and put my head on your shoulder and your head on mine. I feel at peace, like I always have with you. I sip the delicious lemonade. You ask me if I like it. “Yup,” as always. We sit there and chit-chat about random stuff. You tell me about some work you’re doing right now. The glasses are empty. You have to head back to work. You kiss me full on the mouth and ask me what I’m going to do. I shrug. You smile, ruffle my hair, and head inside. I sit there in the heat for a bit more, feeling it seep in through my pores into my very being. I close my eyes. I let it burn the question out of me: “Do you still think of me as a guest?” I see your smiling face shaking your head no. I smile and head inside to make a snack for you as you work—this is what I wanted to do with you.

I see this when I think of you: a bright, sparkly blue sky. Our meadow behind the house, wild grass, large gnarly old trees with hollows that are homes to sundry squirrels and birds—owls, to be specific. The grass is lush green and adorned with fresh dewdrops. Birdsong fills the air every morning and evening. The sun lights up the dew like little sparkly fairy lights in the daytime. The fireflies take charge of the same at twilight. I sigh. I find myself filled with awe, disbelief, and gratitude every single time. You come out and link your arm with mine as I take in the morning view from the porch. The delicious smell of warm coffee wafts out along with you, your palms always so warm. You worry about the calluses being rough, and yet you are so soft with me. I love them anyway. I slide my arm around your waist and look up at you. How in the world did I get so lucky? You are looking into the distance, but you smile your crinkled smile, and the crow’s feet take their rightful place around your eyes. You notice me even when you are not looking at me. You notice me even when I'm not around. “What is my poet going to write today then?” you ask, and then turn around to plant a peck on my cheek and then my lips. I can sense your restraint in not going in for a full-blown kiss. You know how I savour this time of the day with you softly by my side. The house is made of brick, stone, and wood, with a bit of glass thrown around for sparkle. You know how much I adore sparkly things. Otherwise, the big wide wooden windows open up fully without any bars or grills onto the front porch and the back meadow, letting in the crisp air and warm sunshine. It’s never too cold nor too hot inside. The temperature is just about right in all types of weather. I remember the time when we discussed everything our home would be—not just the physical features but the safe haven for us and whoever might need it. I'm so grateful every day that we stood by each other, just like we had said we would, and brought this dream to life. A safe haven for our kids to grow up in and to come back to always. A home filled with trinkets and animals, and yet clean enough. I love that all I hear in the morning is birdsong and the wind at times, until you turn on the radio after ensuring I'm no longer in the groggy morning haze. I love how you have always looked out for me—even without me knowing. I feel seen with you. All those years I spent being invisible. You came into my life too late, and I into yours, of course. But I guess it’s never too late or too early. It’s always the right time. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have been who we are. We probably had to learn a lot—the value of many things—to be able to respect and value what we both brought to the table. To see each other beyond human egos and see each other as humans, not just the roles we play. To be able to truly see and appreciate ourselves and one another. This morning, this warmth, this smell of coffee, our arms around each other as we stand adoring these sensations and your smile by my side—this is what I wanted to do with you.

- Good night -- Early today? - No -- So good night as in you are free of the stress? - (good night as in - look at me, give me attention, ask me something, tell me something, buy me macaroons even if i can buy them myself, buy me flowers, sweet nothings, just stay by me in the moment, take a walk with me, see me, hold me on your own, caress my hair, pat my back to sleep, take a break from work, look at the sky and the birds with me, walk barefeet in the grass with me, tell me the color of my eyes, dropby at my doorstep unannounced, notice me....) - Lol.

Oh forlorn moon... You are a manifestation of the almighty.. Blessing the dark nights with your glow.. you wane and wax but you are always there.. even if you are but a sliver.. you bring hope.. your light penetrates the darkest of places.. bless us so our hearts continue to find the light.. lead us when darkness strikes.. remind us to look deeper, help us so that we don't stray.. stay with us, for the sun shines and warms us in the day but you are our real hero..

Because there is no place else to post this. Because there is no one to talk to about this. Because probably insurance won't payout. Because I've been done since a long time ago...

Whisky glazed like honeyed almonds Rum soaked like raisins in a christmas cake Vodka spiked like the stars sparkling overhead Beer frothed like giggles in the bright summer sun Gin invigorated like a teenagers carefree laugh Champagne glittered like a Cullian on her crown Wine cajoled like a silken scarf on a slender neck Memories all of them. And they come back Time and again when the moment is right Very opportunistic these memories I tell you.

The day slowly calls its a night.. As the evening light slowly creeps around me Slowly it gathers its brilliant robes, painting itself away.. Making way for darkness to fill the empty room. The leaves are still today, as if they know something. Its not the calm before a storm but a calm of knowing, the calm of reassurance. The light and dark and enmeshed now. Impossible to tell one from the other. The moment when you can't make up your mind if you need to turn on the lights, or leave them be. This dance of theirs, a daily phenomenon But a routine like today is a thing to behold. When the soul feels awake The way it is starting to feel like with you, a becoming