"And we go running on faith...."
They asked me to pick a single moment, one that would summarize everything that was me. It was for a painting, something they wanted to be able to hang on my wall so that every time someone looked at it they would ask where it had come from. They stood their ready with the brush for me to recall it. I was standing on a sidewalk in a park, leaning against a no parking sign and watching the lake through the trees and there could only be one thing I would think of.
“There’s a girl in it,” I’d say first. “She’s standing there looking at me so intensely its like she sees me for everything I really am and I don’t have to tell her anything. She already knows my secrets.
“There is sand in our shoes and the wind of the lake bites a little because it is evening and we are completely exposed to it. Her hair is blowing a little in it and she keeps reaching up and pushing it back with her hands. She’s not saying anything and neither am I and for the first time I feel like we don’t have to find the words. It’s so calm even as the intensity of the emotion just keeps building she just keeps looking at me and smiling a little. I keep thinking this is what love is supposed to be but I can’t look away to think, I am caught too deep in it.
“We were talking about something,” I’d say remembering. “I can’t even remember what it was, something meaningless, probably me trying to sound clever or be charming but she doesn’t care about that. We have had days and nights of conversations about things trying to know if there was going to be a moment like this and it just happened. I even forgot the sand in my shoes.
“She doesn’t flinch or raise an eyebrow but she brings me right back to her eyes and I see everything reflected in her eyes. The moonlight, the street lamps the way her eyes take it all in and shine. If there was nothing else the way her eyes shine when she looks at me like that, that alone is enough to render me speechless.
“That’s me right there. That’s who I am, the person she is looking at and smiling at like that. The way she makes me feel like if I hold her close there is nothing better. She doesn’t move but my eyes betray the secret urgency that starts to move through me, the pressure in my knees to stand, the drive that brings my hands up and slips them underneath the folds of her shirt.
“I was so scared that she would say no, push my hands away and that this was really all something that I was dreaming. Part of me believed, still believes at times, that this can’t be real because it is too good to be real and in my experience it doesn’t work that way with life. But she doesn’t say anything. She lets my hands rest on the curve of her hips and she leans in to nestle her head against my shoulder and it feels so right.
“You have to paint it like I saw it though,” I tell them. “You can’t just paint the blackness of the night and the random colors that weren’t blocked out by shadows. You have to paint the blues that still lingered in the water, the grays and whites in the crests of the waves. You have to paint the red that I saw streaking around us, the yellows and gold and the purple blend as it faded into the evening. I want to see the flash in her eyes, that spark. If you can’t paint that then don’t even try to capture her.
“You have to make it so my life is in that canvas, because my life is in that moment. That’s what I want life to be about. Not work, not goals. I want it to be in the potential of that moment, the potential it had to explode into something so much greater than me and my fears, questions and curiosities. I want to see that we are more than just there. I want to see it in her eyes.”
“There’s a girl in it,” I’d say first. “She’s standing there looking at me so intensely its like she sees me for everything I really am and I don’t have to tell her anything. She already knows my secrets.
“There is sand in our shoes and the wind of the lake bites a little because it is evening and we are completely exposed to it. Her hair is blowing a little in it and she keeps reaching up and pushing it back with her hands. She’s not saying anything and neither am I and for the first time I feel like we don’t have to find the words. It’s so calm even as the intensity of the emotion just keeps building she just keeps looking at me and smiling a little. I keep thinking this is what love is supposed to be but I can’t look away to think, I am caught too deep in it.
“We were talking about something,” I’d say remembering. “I can’t even remember what it was, something meaningless, probably me trying to sound clever or be charming but she doesn’t care about that. We have had days and nights of conversations about things trying to know if there was going to be a moment like this and it just happened. I even forgot the sand in my shoes.
“She doesn’t flinch or raise an eyebrow but she brings me right back to her eyes and I see everything reflected in her eyes. The moonlight, the street lamps the way her eyes take it all in and shine. If there was nothing else the way her eyes shine when she looks at me like that, that alone is enough to render me speechless.
“That’s me right there. That’s who I am, the person she is looking at and smiling at like that. The way she makes me feel like if I hold her close there is nothing better. She doesn’t move but my eyes betray the secret urgency that starts to move through me, the pressure in my knees to stand, the drive that brings my hands up and slips them underneath the folds of her shirt.
“I was so scared that she would say no, push my hands away and that this was really all something that I was dreaming. Part of me believed, still believes at times, that this can’t be real because it is too good to be real and in my experience it doesn’t work that way with life. But she doesn’t say anything. She lets my hands rest on the curve of her hips and she leans in to nestle her head against my shoulder and it feels so right.
“You have to paint it like I saw it though,” I tell them. “You can’t just paint the blackness of the night and the random colors that weren’t blocked out by shadows. You have to paint the blues that still lingered in the water, the grays and whites in the crests of the waves. You have to paint the red that I saw streaking around us, the yellows and gold and the purple blend as it faded into the evening. I want to see the flash in her eyes, that spark. If you can’t paint that then don’t even try to capture her.
“You have to make it so my life is in that canvas, because my life is in that moment. That’s what I want life to be about. Not work, not goals. I want it to be in the potential of that moment, the potential it had to explode into something so much greater than me and my fears, questions and curiosities. I want to see that we are more than just there. I want to see it in her eyes.”