Before Its Beginning.

Now, those are the moments that I truly cherish these little things that are often unrecognisable, blurred in a background of static. An echo of laughter from the other room, the kettle boiling, gentle creaks of the floors and the swooshing cupboard doors.

It’s these days that life before me becomes vibrant to observe, even overwhelming. I see it all but it doesn’t find a way to get inside of me, and I’m not an active participant— I just stay still and watch it all, a window in my heart sealed tightly. I smile before my sister’s wildness, her sloppy ways of being. I watch my father joke insanely, filling the house with her screams erupting with genuine laughter. I observe how the sunlight touches the furniture so wondrously, and glimmers catch my eye with meanings and beautiful revelations.

Sometimes it feels as though my heart has toughened from all the things I have to keep outside of it. There is much to shield and I’m always on guard, deciphering what to let in and what to keep out— and as I’m a part of this, I calculate what it is that authentically for me to take, and what I should just gently observe and learn from. But, it keeps me outside more often than not until I’m spilling my heart on those pages, appreciating how beautiful those moments are.

There are rough parts in there that long for softness. Tough edges and crevices that wish for a tighter embrace and eyes that see through me, giving permission to let it in. There are icicles so sharp that they are better left covered until hands can touch them delicately, without causing harm, without inflicting guilt.

Before the beginning of the most truthful love, I remain iced by racing judgements and what-ifs, competing for a righteous place in my heart so that all is well, and that I don’t make the same mistakes again. It’s easier to remain so frozen before life’s beauty— so that I do not say the wrong words again, hide my truth again and go back to where it once used to be.

But when there is love— its very beginning, I thaw. All those barriers collapse into illusory dust, chasing their tails in the air, and I know then that all what had kept me was but fear.

But through his loving eyes and gentle smile, the way he sees in me a bright, warm sun that can illuminate the meadows with wildflowers and fields, thriving, dancing for the love of God. He sees in me a vessel for genuine dreams that translate into beauty and unfolding potentials. One forgiving look in his eye and all the ice in me melts into golden rivers that reverberate currents of life.

Before love’s beginning, it was only trying tirelessly for something outside of me; a token, a golden ribbon or a standing ovation. It was only believing in the lack that had to be stuffed with whatever strength I could muster. But since it’s the beginning, it is a new kind of strength. It is a new shade of everything.

I stand before all the wonder appreciative and unafraid. The darkness cannot touch me for moments longer than necessary; they pass like clouds and dissipate— the sun in my soul can then slowly reappear and rekindle flames of genuineness and love. Once you’re loved and seen for who you truly are, this darkness of scarcity cannot linger. It cannot swell and dwell in a home flooding with light.

I hold his hand, my eyes swelling in gratitude. I am softer and gentler here; for there is no need to prove anything, there is no need to better what we already have within us. I hold his hand, my heart warm and swelling, my voice softer and all-encompassing and I become the vessel my soul always dreamed to be.