Winter Of Love
Entry by: Turia
24th November 2016
Winter of love
The snow had gathered on the front porch, he stepped out to clean it for possibly the hundredth time since morning. The thing he hated most about winters other than their cold mornings was to make sure the snow didn’t block his doorway. Morning was usual, he woke up made his tea, he liked looking at the tea leaves as they dissolved into water, their warm dissolving colour and rising vapour felt comfortable in the coldness.
“Does everything fade out or dissolveâ€, he wondered…
An array of history books piled in the corner awaited his return. He skimmed through the newspaper in a slow unhurried manner. Details interested him, he wasn’t someone who raced through the headlines and sports pages. Today, was different, it was his birthday, and even though he wasn’t someone who expected life to throw great surprises he did expect a phone call.
He had met a woman while hiking across a forest in India, she was the liveliest person he had encountered. They had spoken for hours like long lost friends and although she maintained a distance clearly to caution away the winds of trouble. He had felt safe, for the first time, uninhibited. Usually he was detached in all his relationships for there was always the fear of being emotionally hurt. With her, he was carefree, like a teenager in love.
They made love in her apartment on a rainy night before he left for the airport. Leaving didn’t feel easy for the first time, but such was life. He was a pragmatic person who didn’t let shackles of emotions bind him. A part of him that turned into a childish teenager was trying to overpower his grown-up mature man who doesn’t fall in love pretense. He wasn’t sure whether he was ready yet.
Back in London, it was snowing heavily. His mind was wandering today taking him through the by lane of memories where he had met her. What was it about her? He wondered. He had been with many women, fallen in love once or twice but things had always been detached. This time it felt unreal and therefore complex. He didn’t want unknown strings to be tugged, he was afraid he would come undone and then not know how to fix himself. Troubles of this heart, they are so many, he thought.
Just when he was about to get up, the phone rang making his heart skip a few beats. He answered, his voice not giving away the havoc that his heart had created, his pretentious mature self-taking over to sound nonchalant.
“Hey†She said
“Hello� He sounded silly to himself
“Happy birthday†rang a chirpy voice from the other end.
“Umm .. Thanksâ€
“What plans†She asked
“Well, I’m not big on birthdays†He said(sure but I kept waiting for your call- his mind poked)
“Alright, then do you mind opening your door since you are such a quiet birthday boy†She chirped
His heart was racing, is she out there.
He opened the front door to find a note on the porch.
The note read “Opening the door isn’t enough. If you want me, open your heart, you’ll find me thereâ€
He smiled his first carefree smile in days.
Back with his tea and newspaper, he couldn’t help but wonder where she was and how had she managed to do this.
The doorbell rang for the first time since morning, startling him; when he opened the door, there she was, for a few seconds neither of them said a word. Her smile broke the silence and all that stood between them.
He held her close, the winter didn’t seem cold anymore; her warmth had dissolved everything that was in the way of their love.
40 years later…
It is a winter morning, the years have been so many and their memories have been treasured by him much like his history books. His wife, partner of 39 years enters the living room with two cups of tea, raising a tea toast she says “Happy birthday, darling!†The years have changed him, made him more expressive, however he doesn’t say anything, his eyes reflect the gratitude he feels.
Once their tea is over, they step out to buy groceries from the market. A diary on the desk has a few words in fresh ink, they read:
The mystery of a marketplace
Is known only to you
For, when you step into the market
Your eyes follow the frenzy
that travels through the backyards and paddy fields
they arrive at last and find mine ...
Tuning into the secrets of the trade
I follow your path
and play the Zen charade
I live the moment
nod the nod
The mystic in me
Watches your mellow eyes
As they move from thing to thing
On a crisp winter morning
Our walk through the market
Reminds me of the times
That bind the greater "goods"
To all that is transient
In this world
Assuring, that the in-transient stays
And love,
We have always been here
and we will be here
The snow had gathered on the front porch, he stepped out to clean it for possibly the hundredth time since morning. The thing he hated most about winters other than their cold mornings was to make sure the snow didn’t block his doorway. Morning was usual, he woke up made his tea, he liked looking at the tea leaves as they dissolved into water, their warm dissolving colour and rising vapour felt comfortable in the coldness.
“Does everything fade out or dissolveâ€, he wondered…
An array of history books piled in the corner awaited his return. He skimmed through the newspaper in a slow unhurried manner. Details interested him, he wasn’t someone who raced through the headlines and sports pages. Today, was different, it was his birthday, and even though he wasn’t someone who expected life to throw great surprises he did expect a phone call.
He had met a woman while hiking across a forest in India, she was the liveliest person he had encountered. They had spoken for hours like long lost friends and although she maintained a distance clearly to caution away the winds of trouble. He had felt safe, for the first time, uninhibited. Usually he was detached in all his relationships for there was always the fear of being emotionally hurt. With her, he was carefree, like a teenager in love.
They made love in her apartment on a rainy night before he left for the airport. Leaving didn’t feel easy for the first time, but such was life. He was a pragmatic person who didn’t let shackles of emotions bind him. A part of him that turned into a childish teenager was trying to overpower his grown-up mature man who doesn’t fall in love pretense. He wasn’t sure whether he was ready yet.
Back in London, it was snowing heavily. His mind was wandering today taking him through the by lane of memories where he had met her. What was it about her? He wondered. He had been with many women, fallen in love once or twice but things had always been detached. This time it felt unreal and therefore complex. He didn’t want unknown strings to be tugged, he was afraid he would come undone and then not know how to fix himself. Troubles of this heart, they are so many, he thought.
Just when he was about to get up, the phone rang making his heart skip a few beats. He answered, his voice not giving away the havoc that his heart had created, his pretentious mature self-taking over to sound nonchalant.
“Hey†She said
“Hello� He sounded silly to himself
“Happy birthday†rang a chirpy voice from the other end.
“Umm .. Thanksâ€
“What plans†She asked
“Well, I’m not big on birthdays†He said(sure but I kept waiting for your call- his mind poked)
“Alright, then do you mind opening your door since you are such a quiet birthday boy†She chirped
His heart was racing, is she out there.
He opened the front door to find a note on the porch.
The note read “Opening the door isn’t enough. If you want me, open your heart, you’ll find me thereâ€
He smiled his first carefree smile in days.
Back with his tea and newspaper, he couldn’t help but wonder where she was and how had she managed to do this.
The doorbell rang for the first time since morning, startling him; when he opened the door, there she was, for a few seconds neither of them said a word. Her smile broke the silence and all that stood between them.
He held her close, the winter didn’t seem cold anymore; her warmth had dissolved everything that was in the way of their love.
40 years later…
It is a winter morning, the years have been so many and their memories have been treasured by him much like his history books. His wife, partner of 39 years enters the living room with two cups of tea, raising a tea toast she says “Happy birthday, darling!†The years have changed him, made him more expressive, however he doesn’t say anything, his eyes reflect the gratitude he feels.
Once their tea is over, they step out to buy groceries from the market. A diary on the desk has a few words in fresh ink, they read:
The mystery of a marketplace
Is known only to you
For, when you step into the market
Your eyes follow the frenzy
that travels through the backyards and paddy fields
they arrive at last and find mine ...
Tuning into the secrets of the trade
I follow your path
and play the Zen charade
I live the moment
nod the nod
The mystic in me
Watches your mellow eyes
As they move from thing to thing
On a crisp winter morning
Our walk through the market
Reminds me of the times
That bind the greater "goods"
To all that is transient
In this world
Assuring, that the in-transient stays
And love,
We have always been here
and we will be here
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