Tag: crying

Close – October 2014.

He is 9.

I am 22.

Tonight, we laid intertwined in our parents’ bed. His legs over mine. My left arm under his head. The fan blowing cool air over our rumpled clothes clad bodies. ‘I Heard the Party’ by Gem Club was playing through the computer speakers.

Tears run down the sides of his face. He told me that he remembered this song. I’d played it weeks ago in my room and when he heard it for the first time, he cried.

It makes him sad. When I ask him why he is crying he tells me that he doesn’t want any one of us to die. That he wants us to always stay together.

I promise him that we won’t die.

I don’t want to crush his innocence tonight. I just want him to be able to feel whatever his heart feels while he listens to the song. I know that society will soon try to shut down this emotional side of him. But he has a very big heart. I hope that it always comes out on top.

The second time we play it, tears run down the sides of my face. Although we are not necessarily crying about the same things, we are one. We are feelers. We get deeply connected to things. Our happiest moments seem to be lined with a little bit of sadness.

And we don’t have to talk about it.

We just let the melody and the lyrics of the song do that for us.

Even though we’ve barely exchanged four sentences the entire day – in this moment, we are closer than we have ever been.

Both mourning something that has yet to come and that we cannot explain.

–S.

Flutter.

Letter from 2014.

Grandma,

I get it now. A crush. Butterflies. Real feelings. I’ve always thought that the feelings I had for boys in the past were real. But that’s it – they were feelings for a boy. Feelings for a man are different. It’s a different ball game. A ball game that I don’t know any of the rules too. Nor have I practiced.

I can’t tell you what is going to happen with us in the future because I don’t know. However, I can tell you that what I feel now, in this moment – and all of the moments that have come before it with this man.

It’s like life is all that it ever was – but everything is heightened. I feel everything deeper. I smile wider. My laugh is louder. The curve of my spine straightens as I stand higher. It’s like I’m in on this secret that only I really know – and it’s the juiciest secret anyone has ever kept.

I get it now. The butterflies. It’s like when he is not around – they flutter softly in remembrance of the times that we have had. When he is near – they flutter wildly. Almost as if they want to burst out because they are excited to see him too. They want to embrace him with me.

When I haven’t heard from him or we have introduced tension into our relationship – it’s as if they are dead. Their wings fall to their sides. Colors fading.

We are not together,

but it feels like I am his.

I am humbled by this experience.

Thankful.

Sometimes I wonder if he is my one.

If this is my forever.

Regardless – I have made a promise to myself that if I have to encounter pain in the future because of our divide then I will greet it with a gratefulness for all of the things he has taught me.

I love you.

I feel like I cry easily now. Not necessarily from sadness. Just life. A good emotional mess. And I imagine that you are living in my tear ducts. Then you make your way onto my eye lashes and slide down my face. This is how you are watching the world now.

Thank you for this treasure.

–S.