I did the thing. I wrote 100 words every day for a week. Yay me! I decided to publish them at the end of the week (Sunday) as a collection, because who has time to read stuff every day?
And then I ended up not publishing. It was too personal. Now, people who know me know I don’t shy away from writing personal, vulnerable stuff. But sometimes, caution is advised, because I do not exist in a vacuum, and a blog, in particular, wants to be read. What if the wrong people read that stuff?
There are wrong people for all kinds of occasions. There’s the stuff you don’t necessarily want your exes to read. Or your employer, or potential future employers. There are things that you’d rather keep from your mother, truth be told.
So, please know that I have written, even if there is nothing to read. There will be things to read next Sunday.
He dotes on our daughter like a besotted puppy. We just came home from the hospital today. „I cannot wait for the moment she brings home her first boyfriend“, my husband suddenly says. „I will tower over him and demand to know his intentions.“
I chuckle. He will tower, at 197cm. „If she is anything like you, and I’d wager she will turn out to be, then she will be way ahead of you. She will find the tallest, biggest basketball player, and she will present him to you as her guy, just to outfox you.“
More than anything, he looks proud at her future resourcefulness. „I guess she would.“
Teru soars in crystal-clear tones, belying his love for rougher edges and darkness. His melodies weave furious sunlight into the deep blue sky before blending into Hizaki’s more languishing, distorted tones. Hizaki creates his own dichotomy between his harsh reverberation and the soft ruffles and lace of his swirling dress. So dark; so sweet. Separate at first, then as one, they spin their magic.
Their fingers fly over the strings with the speed of light, a mere blur. Their joy, their pride, burst forth in every note. They race and duel each other, their voices entwining, each trying to gain the upper hand, reaching into our minds in perfect harmony.
It’s been seven weeks, and I’m still flush with the rosy energy of my new love. What a curious thing! So outside of myself, so far removed, yet suddenly, so intrinsically and irrevocably woven into the very fabric of my being. Such a clear line between before and after! I can never unsee, unhear, unknow; nothing will ever be the same.
I am again in love with music. Every step I take drums to a rhythm, following the winding path of each guitar solo. While my ears are full of my beloved’s melodies, my eyes see the reflections of their words in a thousand thousand scattered cherry blossoms.
It is a new age.