Sunrise Stories.

I pretend to forget to draw the curtains every night before we go to sleep, because something in me just wants to watch the car-lights reflect on our golden walls just before we fade to the darkness of our minds in the hours of the night. My eyes just desire to wake up each morning with the sun shining brightly, and I don’t want to sleep in, ever, with such a blessing to witness every single day.

And this morning, I wake up to a ray of light streaming in a straight line towards the mirror, and my eyes follows its reflection in a daze, till I land on a beautiful tiny rainbow on our desks. I smile— and I hope it’s an omen to make our day as colourful as we possibly can. And then I look at you, dearest, facing me, your gentle eyes asleep and I can see your imperfections clearly. Just a few summers ago, this moment was a dream— and now I wake up to watch you breathe.

And then I think to myself— I touch my face and I realise I’m so imperfect, too. I imagine you open your eyes at that moment and look into my face— what will you see? Is it the dispersed array of freckles on my nose and cheeks? That crooked nose of mine? Blemishes and tiny little imperfections scattered here and there? I get so confused all of a sudden— what do you see, darling? Why did you choose me, over everyone else?

I’m too imperfect for this moment. And my presence is truly not enough to encompass the beauty invading my very being.

I take a deep breath, sit up and walk along to explore that rainbow, and there it miraculously lands on that painting you’ve drawn when we were only nineteen. A painting of a blue home, surrounded by a field of calm grasses illuminated by a gentle rising sun and a morning crescent. How I dearly loved this painting and took it wherever I went. It was always there, in front of me, through moments of stress, tension and hope. I always gazed at it and wondered when we would finally find that home. And I’ve always longed for that moment, to sit on the stairs singing our favourite soulful songs and feel love pulsating in our very eyes.

I take that painting in my hands and let my fingers caress its details. I’m smiling wildly and glancing at you. Oh, dearest, we are on our way, aren’t we? Every time we head out of this little home we know we are doing something to get to that blue little place in the gardens of your dreams. And I am thinking of the glory, the bigger picture, the strategies and tactics to grasp it in our hands. You are gently thinking of what to do next, tomorrow, a practical little step, and we are always there to complement what our images lack.

I take your painting and return to bed. I wake you with my fingers on your cheeks and silently hand you our painting. I excitedly, like a child, hope you remember it. And as the light adjusts for your eyes, you look at me and smile good morning. I smile back and place my fingers on your cheek one more time. You hold the painting and I visualise the quick eruptions of colours in your mind— I visualise the love pounding in your vast river-like heart.

How beautiful it is that we can still dream on, dearest. We aren’t there yet, not in a long time. Not until the right time.

As the starry sun fills the inside of our room, I allow my chest to breathe calmly. I remember that above all choices I’ll have to make today, I’ll choose love.

And what will you choose, my dearest one?