Comfort, creative non-fiction, discernment, Grace, Growth, Heartbreak, love, providence, the color of moments

Frozen in Love

December 7 2013
I carried a keyboard. It was a frozen night. We drank tea in an empty Indian cafe. All the goodness I ever saw in you shone through that night. Glowed from out of you in the warmest light. Your face open. Your voice gentle and honest. The blue of your eyes taken right out of the sky. Your long stride shortened, allowing time with mine. The print of my dress, like the snowy lines of the largest TV signal buzzed on in the rhythm of my heart for you. Sitting across from you on that iced over evening, looking right into your face I thought, “Here I am, here he is, here we finally are in a gaze that might never end”. Later that night there was a girl I talked to who pitied me (I think) and obliged me in conversation. She was sweet and said she could tell I cared about you. I imagined future conversations she and I might have in the same way, in the same kinds of places, in a warmer season to come…. But it all ended up being too much. The gaze. The face. The eyes…The rhythm. It was (none of it) enough, and simultaneously too much, for you. The goodness and truth is perhaps neither good nor true in your mind now. Perhaps what I believed in was just a costly forgery of what was and was never going to be. But If I had the chance to breath deeper, if I had the chance to love more patiently, to linger slowly in the moments carrying the force of change, I would take it. I would risk it. I would risk leaving what now is, and what time has become, to return to that frozen evening and try loving you all over again.


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