Hands

We reach for each other's hands; folding over lightly, fingers snugly woven and palms moulding with familiarity yet a newness of touch every time. To have and to hold; each thud of the heart is felt through this single touch.

Parting is such sweet sorrow

I look forward to each meeting but invariably become a little despondent when it's time to part.  There is still this nuanced thought, this deep-seated reflection that has taken root in my mind, this sudden burst of creativity  that I might want to share with him. There is so much more to me......so much but so little time.

Rationally, I know we will always meet up again but it is not so easy.  With our schedules, I can't just say "let's meet for coffee now" or "I want to see you; meet in half an hour"....a luxury people take for granted is a privilege for me.

If I could, I would say to Shakespeare that parting is not such sweet sorrow. It might seem like sweet sorrow to Romeo and Juliet because the only thing standing between them was their families' enmity. They were free to pledge undying and everlasting love to each other "Tis but thy name that is my enemy" (Act 2, Scene 2) but ancient bloodshed and family feuds are not at play here. Reality is.

We treasure the time together; even if it's only for an hour, even if it's to steal a quick 5-minute reprieve to hear each other's voices. We do not expect much except to always be each other's confidantes. To be consistent and not frivolous; to be there even when the whole world isn't; to always believe and cherish.

I just wish there were more than 24 hours in a day. 

Love at 85

An 85-year-old Spanish duchess is willing to give away her fortune to marry a man 24 years younger. She is said to be worth between $856 million to $5 billion and then some. Wow.  

Firstly, to be in love at 85 years old is a feat not many people can attest to. To be able to still feel that spark and illumination of love at that age..........Okay, maybe I'm not qualified to say anything because I'm not 85 yet. But I believe I might not be so lucky to find someone 24 years younger who would marry me at that age. And oh yes, I'm not a duchess. So there.

Having said that, I do believe in love. I believe love can hit you at 12, 18, 24, 33, 43, 56 or 85. Besides looking like a string of lottery numbers, these beautiful digits remind me that love happens regardless of age or stage of life you're at. It can happen when you least expect it; when you think you're done with love and all the idiosyncrasies of being in love.

I was not looking for anything but it happened. He came along and made me see the world in a totally new perspective. We are as different as chalk and cheese; yet so similar we seem connected at many varied levels. We just have to look at each other and know what the other person is thinking: whether serious, sad, happy or naughty thoughts. We finish each other's sentences or type in the same text messages simultaneously. We can sense each other's moods even through these messages. Sometimes words can be redundant when you read minds that way.

It's uncanny but it feels privileged to be so in tune with someone in this big, wide world. Of course, we have our moments too. Moments when you just want to swat the person's behind properly. I call it the "Uggghhh-moment". But you know what? I would rather have Uggghhh-moments with him than anything else with another person.

I do not know where this will lead us. It seems silly to know perhaps that it will never lead anywhere. But one thing for sure, we're loved right now and that's all that matters. I just wish I can be like the duchess at 85, with or without the fortune.