He rocked back and forth on the wiggly wicker-chair. His thoughts were turned inwards to himself, racing on and on in a disconcerted manner. The smell of fresh grass from the recently mowed lawn reached him in soft whiffs. The scent of flowers made him sneeze every so often as to lift him from his reverie. He looked up in time to see the lovely lady racing off into the setting sun, turning every now and then to lift her face up to his in a smile. He was too distracted to offer anything more than a half-hearted smile. The look on his face was haggard and drawn. He was flustered at how fast his skin had fallen off. The laughter lines around his deep soulful eyes and his mouth had disappeared. She had called them SSE (Sweet Sunken Eyes) and had loved looking deep into them, whispering softly that the eyes were a mirror into the soul. He coughed slightly at the memories, reeling in pain and overwrought with distraught as he batted his eyelids in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. It had been a long time coming.
Melancholy is beautiful, in stories and in people; most especially in people. It wears a man and fits him perfectly, somehow placing him a class above others. It makes him appear classy and mysterious, the kind of mystery that draws women to him in blind animal attraction. Like a moth flying determinedly towards a bright light, the light that then consumes it with a kind of muted puff. It presents a challenge to the soft-hearted girls, those who make a man’s issues their own, internalize them and try to help him out of the mire. These girls with their big hearts and bountiful compassion have their noses held up in the air, sniffing around in the smoke after the fire, looking for the boy who lost everything to try and comfort him. Worse still, they seek out the boy who started the fire in the first place and try to save him, change him.
So it had been with her. She had found him with his deep-seated issues and tendency to depression. The draw had been too strong to resist, the mystery too magnetic, beckoning her to get into his soul and know the hurt boy within. How she had continuously been a pain in his neck until she had finally broken down all his defences and sailed right through into his heart. She had always stated that the heart wants what it wants, a sassy confident smile playing on her lips. When one imagines themselves to be in love, nothing short of bliss embraces the stretch of their imagination and the margin of their dreams. It is akin to the unconquerable feeling of flying beyond horizons after having wings clipped onto your back. It is a dream with opportunities that are worthy of their promise. Love is indeed a force to reckon with; a storm that tears down every barrier to give men a semblance of equity in the depth of emotion and turmoil of uncertainties. It is a mettle that moulds us into fine specimens of humanity. And so he had fallen, hard, and never deigned himself capable of feeling so passionately for another.
He shuddered in despair and stared off into the blackening sky. As often happened, he could hear the echo of her laugh in his mind. It had been like tingling bells, building up to a crescendo that had been music to his ears. And that smile, it had been balm to his broken and wounded heart. She had given off herself unreservedly to living passionately, passing on the flame of life to many, most especially him. Life to her had been no brief candle to flirt about with, but a splendid torch that she held out, burning brightly. She had taken hold of life, and that had been life indeed!
He got to his feet and shuffled around the darkening compound. The world did sometimes appear cold and disheartening. Scowls of displeasure would escape him and bitterness would weigh him down. The darkness had time and again tried to dim his glow and snap out his light. But enchantingly, the light that shone in his eyes, though buried by the weight of his bereavement, had not snuffed out. It is the very essence of courage and beauty and life in any person. It reminds one of the way the sun refuses to stop shining or the way the wind blows by to fan one’s cheeks on a hot day. It is inspiring, that the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline despite the waves. The warmth within him would always remind him of how much he had needed the sweetness of her compassion to help him fight the cold within that almost chocked life out of him. And for this, because of her, It would always be worth to live and fight another day; To never quit on life but to live fully, wholly and passionately. He looked up and smiled at the stars, as the wholeness of her love washed through him and ignited his whole being.
Don’t you ever allow the sparkle in your eyes to harden into Ice. Don’t let the life be sucked out of you that you forget the simple joys of life. Let not intense bitterness make you an amateur in the game of life. But let yourself soar high, right past the heights that were almost impossible for you and unimaginable for others. Let the spring in your step forever take you yonder. Drink in every single moment that makes life worthwhile.
When the chips are down, refuse to get beaten down but rise again to fight and live and love another day! When The Chips are Down……