"One day, she was there. At the academy. And I knew. From the first glance. With not a word or a hand held between us, I knew."
"Tell me."
"Not sure how to explain it. She was younger than I, never even looked my way, or so she said later, but I knew. From the way she walked, the curve of her cheek, the motion of her hand in making a point, eyes so dreamy they seemed not real. Demure in an educated, graceful way. An intelligence beyond her years, but more than that, she had a strength of character that always made me feel just a little lacking. I had all the honors, all the awards. But I knew she was the stronger, as I know Ariel too, is the stronger."
"But how did you know?"
"I don't know. Some sort of intuition, a whisper of fate, a chemical reaction that enters the eye and threatens to explode the heart, a sense of falling, not in love, but falling in life, into life--"
"Into life? What does that mean?"
"I'm trying to avoid all the usual clichés. But I'll say this. My life has always been divided in two. Before and after. Life before Cait was faded in discipline, honor, duty. Results boy my dad would always say; and so that was my life, exceling, on every level. And I did, although my father would never give me the pleasure of my accomplishments, assuming, of course, he was around to celebrate them."
"And after?"
"Nothing was ever faded again. Life was never the same. As if I could see things I could never see before, feel things never felt before and a future came forth, with Cait, of us, that changed everything. The feeling was of a foundation under my feet that made everything meaningful, significant, and the accomplishments, well, let's just say that with Cait, there was a grounding, a widening of perspective and life went from pencil to pen, from grey to any hue and color one could imagine. Even crimson."
The conversation stopped with blurry eyes and cheeks that trembled of memory, of loss, of what was and of what would never be again.
After some time, Kyra spoke. "Still want to kiss me?"
"Would you be upset if I said no?"
"I'd be honored."
"Honored?"
"One never mixes two women."
"Really? Another Papaism?"
"Nope. A Kyraism."
5 comments:
Your gift never ceases to amaze me. This gift of insight and the ability to describe and make the reader become one with the character. In some of these post, as in this one, I feel as though you have somehow worked your way into my "self". Feelings, emotions, that I feel, that I've never expressed, never could in a million years, I feel as though you've climbed inside and allowed them to "pour out".
I really like this side of John...and Kyra, but especially John. Devotion.
As always, I ramble. That's why I read and don't write...lol
TIGHT HUGS
MWAH
hhHHH
and BTW...HAPPY EASTER!!!!!!!!!!
LotL, as always, thanks for the very kind words. Much appreciated. :-)
I like very much what Lotl says in her comment of "working your way into...". Through your writings, we are reminded of how few differences there really are between us. I'm not sure why we seem to forget this, like several other essential truths, somehow we can know and not know at the same time, be reminded of what is already known...like the passage of life and lack of promises. Your gift is that you never waver from this, that you have complete confidence in your descriptive abilities. You may question this, but it shows in every chapter, every poem, every post. Not on a distinctly conscious level of course, you write of what moves you and the way in which you do this, is our reminder. The process is beauty in itself, the poet offering a reflection.
Reading this post, I thought of Duckhead, of the painting and those in*credible chapters around the time that Disco appeared. The trees that lined, a journey driven, one of my all-time favourite chapters. How I loved that chapter. And of that one night spent together, where we came to know Cait. John's reminiscences of Cait's mannerisms, undetailed, are what remind of the chapters where they were. I see her clearly in this chapter, I would say as John must were it not irreverent, but certainly just watching him remember, trace the outline of her in his words, clear she appears in my own memories of her. Her face (your portrait). The living, loving Cait, as opposed to the Cait we were reminded of in a recent chapter. This is a wonderful chapter, the warmth of John's feelings, Kyra's role here and as it stands as the chapter that came after lightning and nails, boots and clover.
I touched upon it yesterday, touching upon it only now as I say how infinitely special the connections are that you create.
I seem to have lost my way on every point that it was my intention to make. The first part of this comment was supposed to be about your awe-inspiring ability to touch the core, yours, theirs, ours, and the collective ours. Then I meant to say something of your consistency and quality and the post itself, I'm not sure that I ever spoke of directly. Your writing was superb, the chapter as a whole, superb. John and Cait, all of them and all that never was, will be with me today. Fiction and reality aside, degrees aside, this is what this chapter did, as John remembered how he fell for Cait, this reader remembered why she fell for John and Cait.
Dear Sweetest, I've said it a hundred times before and I'll say it a hundred times more. Your comments are the air I breathe and this Story continues, like the ember, because you breath life into me. Thank you. H
It is indescribably wonderful to feel the story this alive once more. You know this is my favourite place in all the world. Thank You. x
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