Water?
The sun shines in from the window, and it is the closest thing to a visitor I’ve had in days. It’s not that they aren’t invited, it’s that they simply won’t come. I long for solicitation, for someone to just barge in and make themselves comfortable.
“Hello, Stranger. And how did you find your place here?”
“Oh, Dutch, I smelt your tears on the wind.”
And we’d sit and talk for hours. I’d tell the Stranger of my troubles and the Stranger would never have his own. He would only empathize. He would only understand and try to help. He’d listen closely. Never blinking. And when the Stranger felt parched, he would keep his eyes fixed on me while his hand blindly searched for his drinking glass. And while he nurtured his dry throat, his eyes would remain on me. Trusting the water to be dust free. Trusting his instincts. Believing in purity. We should all be so brave.
“Go on. . .”
“Well, I know she loves me, but how can I be certain she always will?”
And the Stranger would notice my own glass of drinking water sitting beside me on the oak end table that my parents gave to me when I moved out. He would push it on to the floor. I would stare at him.
“Why did you do that?”
“Did it make a mess, Dutch?”
“Of course it made a mess! A glass full of water cannot fall two feet without making a mess! Now I ask again, why did you do that?!”
“The glass made a mess because it simply could not not make a mess. She will love you forever and more because she simply could not not love you.”
“Well, my mother bought me these glasses and now the set is no longer complete. You could have come up with a better analogy than that.”
The sun reaches my back now, and I feel warm again.
“Hello, Stranger. And how did you find your place here?”
“Oh, Dutch, I smelt your tears on the wind.”
And we’d sit and talk for hours. I’d tell the Stranger of my troubles and the Stranger would never have his own. He would only empathize. He would only understand and try to help. He’d listen closely. Never blinking. And when the Stranger felt parched, he would keep his eyes fixed on me while his hand blindly searched for his drinking glass. And while he nurtured his dry throat, his eyes would remain on me. Trusting the water to be dust free. Trusting his instincts. Believing in purity. We should all be so brave.
“Go on. . .”
“Well, I know she loves me, but how can I be certain she always will?”
And the Stranger would notice my own glass of drinking water sitting beside me on the oak end table that my parents gave to me when I moved out. He would push it on to the floor. I would stare at him.
“Why did you do that?”
“Did it make a mess, Dutch?”
“Of course it made a mess! A glass full of water cannot fall two feet without making a mess! Now I ask again, why did you do that?!”
“The glass made a mess because it simply could not not make a mess. She will love you forever and more because she simply could not not love you.”
“Well, my mother bought me these glasses and now the set is no longer complete. You could have come up with a better analogy than that.”
The sun reaches my back now, and I feel warm again.