Parts

“A muse? What?” he exclaimed with a confused expression in his face. 

“I saw it yesterday, in her journal, there are pages and pages written about you” she replied excitedly.  Her hands were moving erratically as she explained what she had seen.  He looked at her nervously wondering exactly how much this girl had written about him

He bit his lip, deciding between freaking out and feeling smug. “She doesn’t even know me though, how could she draw so much to fill up a journal, a page is even too long, I don’t even know her name!” he laughed. He finally found the humour in the situation.

She stared at him laughing away and after a long pause, she started laughing too.

“It is not you that she writes about, it's the parts of you that are part of her, and the things you do, the parts of her that she will soon find in her whole”, she replied with a sudden straight face.

He looked terribly disappointed.

Why RomComs still matter

We watch these movies, each time a new one is released we drag our male companion to the first cinema we can find. We know what will happen, boy meets girl and then they fight and break-up but by some force of nature get back together. There is usually a scene where someone is running at the airport. We know this. I know this. That fact still does not deter me from watching another and another and each time feeling a glimmer of hope, that someday, maybe today I will meet the perfect stranger.

I did meet the perfect stranger who became very real in my life. There were scenes of our meeting that were so surreal and movie-like. I spent hours and hours replaying and telling these unbelievable stories to all my friends who listened in awe. The truth is, I had spent most of my teenage years watching everything from Titanic to Save the Last Dance and wondered if a Quirky Cathy like me would ever experience that. I experienced more than the light stuff, I experienced some darkness too. While I understand that a bond is far more important than the flashing scenes of “it was fate friend!” , those moments still make me smile. Honestly those are the things that remain as treasures that we can open and reopen again and again. The first time someone surprised you with a gift, picked you up or kissed you while the sun set remains engraved in the warmth of the heart. After the wounds have healed and the anger subsides, we are left with those irreplaceable memories.

Be it cheesy or not, we all have some kind of reel of our favourite moments. This is why I watch and am moved each time. It is not because I am obsessed with the idea of love, but more the possibilities that love can bring. Science fiction or action even romance can show highly unlikely scenarios but only love can make us crazy enough to make them a reality. Or at the least desire to make it our reality.

OMG stop fluttering

"You silly, silly pretty bugs !
those lilies are not for us"

Instant fluttering in my tummy
his presence is adorned with lilies
white lilies
 roses
 sunflowers
he is a good bunch

Shhhhhh!

"We cannot let him know"

I smile quietly
and wonder
if I even warrant that bunch
if I could ever be handed that bunch

I want it so dearly
mostly for myself
partly because their wings fluttered
 while I stuttered
in my greeting
that was only a whisper

I wonder if my whisper will linger
or will I go on longer
in deep hope
that that good bunch will someday be mine!!!

(PS lets not get too carried away)

My butterflies won't come out

My butterflies won’t come out

For anything less than lilies

Or sunflowers

Maybe white roses.

They refuse to be lured by laughter

Interest

Even peculiar strangers.

They sit patiently on green stalks

Laughing loudly

Throwing they beautiful heads back

The kind of laughter that makes you nervous

But its totally powerful and intimidating.

There is no humour about it.

I present them with yellow carnations

And the pretty little bugs wont budge.

“Really ”, they snap.

My mind turns around slowly

Embarrassed looking at the yellow common flower in its hands

It’s sad. It’s heart-wrenching.

The mind thinks it’s time

The heart is almost ready

But my butterflies will not budge.

They were so quiet for so long

I was convinced of their death.

They want beauty.

“We could do fine with these tulips,

Petunias but soon we will need more”

I look to the heavens and ask for a white lily.

God smiles and whispers “Not yet”

“I have been weeding Dad”

“I know but not yet”

I turn around half glad

Half disappointed. 

I blow another petunia away.