Nevergirl's

I’m not going away. I am going somewhere. I have places to see, verses to learn, stories to write, odd corners to turn, moments to capture, heavens to peer at, ghosts to drag, and nostalgia to challenge the stars with. I want to find places that will break my heart and hold moments that force me to stop and remember. I want discovery and metaphors, scars and cycles, moonlight and galaxies, tombstones and ripples, and the birthing of stars.

I’m not going away. I am going somewhere. I don’t have a map or a saltwater sketch of all these places I am going to but I don’t need one. My feet know the way to the sea.

I think I’m beginning to like solitude.

Here, the lazy whirring of fans and the dull purring of the AC are broken only by the sounds of house chores – scrubbing from the bedrooms, the screeching of furniture being moved, the tink and clink of dishes being washed. Here, the help putters in the kitchen creating her own medley of sounds: washing, pounding, chopping, frying, sauteing, boiling. Here, the little girl’s and the husband’s are two footfalls I know; and I listen for the patter of one at 9 in the morning and the skips and hops of the other 30 minutes before lunchtime. Here, too, life passes by idly, with the languor of a daydream.

There is a quality to these slow but sound-filled days that’s both depressing and intoxicating. While the absence of company is making me contemplate talking to pillows, it’s also making me see little pockets of joy everywhere and in the mundane — sitting idly while waiting for the sun to set, seeing a movie I never had time to watch before, inadvertently hearing snippets of funny conversations that float up from the houses next door, sipping hot chocolate and eating casava cake in the afternoons, hand-holding while glued to National Geo’s The Perfect Weapon, and sometimes hearing the wind pass through the leaves of trees – pass through and rustle like a lullaby.

Yes, I think I’m beginning to like solitude. Luxury bed linens too, but that’s another story entirely.

How do you fall in love?

You hoard tenderness and joy and quiet moments under your eyelids. You cup secret glances and laughter and sighs in your palm.

One day, you will have someone to give all these to, but in the meantime, find quiet comfort in the knowledge you have a whole heart to give.