Thursday, May 26, 2011
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Who knew a certain noise that used to make me sigh with utter irritation, would somehow sway my feelings about it today. This same noise that has been known to cause me to be late, frustrated, and would lose sleep because it was so loud. The clickety clack almost mimicking the tick tocks of the minutes being wasted by me staring at the never ending train going by. A whistle, similar to that of a tea kettle's scream, has melted my soul. As crazy as it sounds, maybe that whistle was just screaming out the words "This is real" in the only decimal my stubborn soul could hear. Maybe my ears are left punctured by those promising everything and wounded by those who gave nothing.
One last kiss and I am on the train, doing everything I can not to turn around and bolt in the other direction. In the passenger car, I sit in utter silence. My head is still swirling with what I heard this brisk morning. Those words "this is it", I've thought I have heard them before, but those times were more like a slight mumble that could easily have been misheard. Now I know I obviously misheard but this time there was no mistaking. As I sit completely alone and exhausted from the days just before, I drift off. Not to sleep, but in thought. I rest my head on my smaller luggage. Even though I am alone, I don't feel like it at all. I can still feel his presence next to me. I still hear his voice and feel his touch. My memory starts to take over; I think about our bodies lying next to one another and feeling his chest move with each breathe he took. Or how he looks when he sleeps. Or how I have to restrain from saying "I love you" every time I look into his eyes. Or how his lips felt the moment ours touch. Or that how I actually have to remind myself to breathe when he does something to take my breath away. I replay all the words he said; I suddenly realize how chilly it is on the train. The temperature doesn't help when just the thought of him gives me goose bumps.
I left him that day with no regrets, no worries and no uneasiness of where this is going. Even with his name. Chris. Somehow it doesn't bother me. That name that scarred my soul so long ago doesn't seem to leave a bitter taste in my mouth when I speak it. I may never be able to call him Chris, he deserves better in my eyes. I then vow to just call him Christopher. I knew the first day I met him that I was in trouble. I have never been so nervous meeting someone. I was blushing the majority of the time that night as we sit next to the abnormally large tree in the middle of the restaurant. I couldn't even look in his eyes without smiling. I knew this was different than anything I had experienced before.
The trains loud scream, disrupts my thoughts. I realize that my face is starting to ache from smiling. The train that day took on a whole new meaning. That noise, that abrupt yell, was one telling me that this was it. That I can let my guard down. That if I just give in I could experience what most people only read about. So next time I am actually looking forward to getting yelled at by that engine because it brings back my heart to me.