I never ever take one step at a time; I take two, I race up and down steps. Life is too short to waste time taking those stairs ever so slowly and carefully...one day though I will have to learn...I look forward to it :)
I miss the girl who used to run down the stairs.
She is in there somewhere. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of her when the woman smiles at me. It is in the woman's eyes when they crinkle with laughter. I can feel it in her hands when she holds me during our ritual Sunday evening slow dance.
I wonder what it will take to bring her back. I wonder if my heart will again beat faster at the sound of her running; pounding in anticipation of the joy that will enfold it once she bounds down that last step and into my arms.
The woman walks slowly and there is nothing in her gait to remind me of the girl who used to run down the stairs. When she climbs the stairs now, it is with a precise carefulness that scares me. Any minute now, I am afraid she will fall. Worse still, I fear that I will not be there to catch her.
It is sometime in the night when she wakes me from my dreams, dreams that are filled with the girl who used to run down the stairs. In my dreams, she is breathless, beautiful, perfect and unencumbered by anything.
The woman I awaken to couldn't be more different.
'What is it?' I ask even though I already know.
'It is time.' She says as she glances at me from where she stands, holding her soaked nightgown.
The fire is back in her eyes and I know it is my turn to run down those stairs.
It takes 17 hours of labor to get my girl back. When it is over, I am reminded of the cycle of life. I now have, not one, but two girls running down my stairs to look forward to.
Song of the day: Miguel Adorn
I miss the girl who used to run down the stairs.
She is in there somewhere. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of her when the woman smiles at me. It is in the woman's eyes when they crinkle with laughter. I can feel it in her hands when she holds me during our ritual Sunday evening slow dance.
I wonder what it will take to bring her back. I wonder if my heart will again beat faster at the sound of her running; pounding in anticipation of the joy that will enfold it once she bounds down that last step and into my arms.
The woman walks slowly and there is nothing in her gait to remind me of the girl who used to run down the stairs. When she climbs the stairs now, it is with a precise carefulness that scares me. Any minute now, I am afraid she will fall. Worse still, I fear that I will not be there to catch her.
It is sometime in the night when she wakes me from my dreams, dreams that are filled with the girl who used to run down the stairs. In my dreams, she is breathless, beautiful, perfect and unencumbered by anything.
The woman I awaken to couldn't be more different.
'What is it?' I ask even though I already know.
'It is time.' She says as she glances at me from where she stands, holding her soaked nightgown.
The fire is back in her eyes and I know it is my turn to run down those stairs.
It takes 17 hours of labor to get my girl back. When it is over, I am reminded of the cycle of life. I now have, not one, but two girls running down my stairs to look forward to.
Song of the day: Miguel Adorn
You sabi write sha, can i be like you when i grown up. No Ed Sheeran today?
ReplyDeleteseriously u r really good I mean when u write u strike a nerve in me n I can always relate. thanks a lot 4 sharing ur gift. hope u wont put up a disclaimer. :)
ReplyDeleteSlain! I'm slain.
ReplyDelete