Friday, December 17, 2010

Day 74: Here I am, and there you are.

How's it going out there?
I gotta tell you, this post almost didn't happen.
I drove a friend home, got stuck behind the snowploughs, got every single red light, took the really, really far parking spot (no others in sight) ran down the street, and up three flights of stairs. I kicked my boots off, threw my coat on the floor, stubbed my little toe badly on the coffee table (that keeps happening!) and turned my computer on.
After 3 resets on the router (oy vey) here I am.
Here. I. Am.
You would think that I might have thought of something to say.
I did.
I actually jotted some notes onto my iPhone while my friend went to the washroom during dinner.
And again at the many red lights in the car.
I don't know why I even do that, I never end up using what I wrote.
I want it to be fresh. I like to see what transpires organically when my fingers hit this keyboard.
And tonight, I'm not sure what will.
So many things are floating around my head.
Mostly how I am here.
And how you are there.
And how different things would be if we were in the same room.
Having tea, perhaps.
I think about the body language. The word exchange. The facial expressions.
Would we laugh together?
Would there be heavy lulls in the conversation?
Would they be misinterpreted as having nothing to say?
Or would you know I babble and get quiet in spurts when I'm nervously taking in a moment?
(Because some moments happen much too quickly).
Would you put me at ease?
Would I be comfortable enough to be 'me' with you?
And if I let my guard down, would you ask to stay for a second cup of tea?
Would you say I was "special", instead of "sexy", "hot" or "pretty"?
Would you know that making me feel one of a kind, is the best way to make me feel beautiful?
Would you finally let me in?
If you were here, instead of there.

1 comment:

  1. Oh, this is wonderful Tanya, and exactly why I love your writing so. I love how the rush of obstacles in the beginning suddenly calms, and you can feel your fingers hit the keyboard. Then the tea.

    And then, wonderfully, the series of questions - and it's like all those troubles in the beginning have their internal parallels. They become their own red lights and far parking spots and stubbed toes. Things that make you stop or wait or stumble...You know?

    Until you can write, or talk, or meet, or share some space and time. Really wonderful.

    Whoever is there, I think a second cup of tea is guaranteed. :)