Wednesday, December 28, 2011

one last dance

The lawn was covered with red and blue, brightly lit tents. I found myself, once again, not in my homeland on Christmas Day, but somewhere very close by. Just a day earlier I had cried in the shower, remembering, after too much wine, the depths of unhappiness I was in. I had typed out my sorrows to him, just needing a friend at that point of time, a listening ear. Spontaneously, the next day, we traveled, each from different cities, to attend this dinner, but also, to meet each other. He was thinner from the last I remembered, a sign of his worsening anxiety and the dreadful situation he was in. I knew that we could not expect anything with each other for now, and sometime later I told him words that I did not mean, 'that one day, you will find someone who loves you the way you are. And for me... I'm going to find someone like you.' I cannot tell him that I feel like giving up on this impossible dream and at the same time I don't want to be with anyone anymore, I don't, but yet, I want to be with him, and at the same time, I worry it will just go awry, again.

The house was beautiful, it had a large porch built for dancing, and when we arrived, the party already had hundreds of guests, some of the bolder aunties and uncles had already started dancing. We arrived with travelers from different countries, we happened to be from all over the world, Germany, America, Costa Rica, Brazil... but we found ourselves in the old town I loved so much on Christmas Day. It was a nice way to spend the holiday, I thought, surrounded by people I don't know, yet feeling more peaceful than I've ever had for a long time.

We danced with each other the entire night. From the fast, popular songs, to the slow ones. I wasn't able to read when he wanted to twirl me, so each time we mis-twirled, we giggled madly and did some other cover-up moves. We bopped and hopped to the shufflin' songs and jumped and swung to the pop songs, and we rested during the cha-cha and bollywood songs.

He did something that touched my heart. From the sides, there were several kids, teenagers, who were watching us dance, but never daring to venture out. He just dragged them onto the dance floor, and once they were there, they never left. Thank you for doing that, it was a good thing you did. Then he saw a small boy in glasses and a checked shirt. He prompted me to go and drag him over. Initially I thought he did not want to dance at all, and he protested, I cannot dance! But once he was there as my partner, he glowed, and had a fun time. I was warmed that he knew this boy had the longing in his heart to come and dance but he was just too shy, and he helped to fulfil it. We danced till we were exhausted, and went to rest in a wicker sofa placed in the garden. Both sweaty, but also happy, I put my head on his lap and admired the stars in the sky. We told each other silly things and I could feel him laugh from the depths of his belly, and that was such a perfect moment. Although the place was packed with people, it seemed that we were just enveloped in each other, despite the loud music blasting just beside us, I felt a quiet, contemplative feeling as we were beside each other, for that moment, just putting away all our other thoughts, and the force of each other's presence making each other feel happy, just happy to see each other, not knowing when would be the next time. I had followed my heart, or my lack of common sense, to where he was.

Later that night, when I knew he couldn't hear, I whispered that I loved him very much.

Sunday, December 04, 2011

we could be happy

And then, he smsed me, when he was leaving asia to yonderland. Little things like this makes me so happy.

We chatted, and I found myself sharing about a vivid dream I had, early this year. A dream I could not forget, and had not shared with anyone. I always thought that this dream was, perhaps, God-given, to inspire and encourage me. The personal hell I had gone through, a shattered heart and a lost faith, I never could bear to tell him, and never asked him about his personal sorrow, although, without words, I can guess that our sad stories had the same ending. Because, how could I tell him that I felt the same way, that I had also been very disappointed, that I was happier alone than with someone, yet, I had followed my heart to meet him, to find out something, something I can't even name. And this scares me more than anyone, because in the dream, I was old, and so happy, so in love, walking in a wintry place, cobblestoned streets, vividly remembering and loving the street in which we walked, old and gray but safe in each other's presence. And when I woke, I was hopeful again, that even though it had been a tough year, life is short and there are moments when we should be happy like fools, although we have tasted bitter moments, and we cannot anticipate the future, we should count ourselves very lucky to have met each other in a sea full of strangers. I would like 'us' to become a reality and I know we will not be as happy with any one else, but if the reality is that if it only lasts for x period of time, I would die, just die, and isn't it better just to let things be status quo? I don't know all the answers.

This was the poem I wrote then, trying to capture the essence of how the dream felt.

'Twas a girl's daydream of growing old,
And walking hand in hand through
Cobblestoned streets, a vision of
Being blissfully happy, though
Gray haired and bleary eyed, they walked
Slowly but surely
Seeming to saunter in spirit,
They were us.

Though we speak the same language,
Few truly understand
Or comprehend
between the lines
Of what the heart wants to say
Modernity seeks to banish the dream
The dream of love, the scene an ode to love

I wait in peace, captive to your thoughts
Your voice like it was almost always there
The time and place where it had not existed seemed a distant and forgotten place
While I have time more
With eyes half-asleep, I perceive the cobblestoned street
And the language of love
Our hearts both speak.