early morning.

I blink my eyes open, just open enough to see that it is morning already. There is sunlight shining in through the window, and I can make you out now that it is no longer dark. The sight of you makes me smile. You are resting on your side, facing me; your head emerging from the blankets. Your eyes are still gently closed, and there is that wonderfully peaceful and innocent air to your face. I feel like I am seeing a much younger version of you – the young boy that you once were and that at some point or another craved to feel truly loved.

You open your eyes, and become again the man that you are.

“Hey,” you say in a sleepy voice, before rolling over onto your back and closing your eyes once more.

I snuggle up to you, resting my head near your shoulder, my left hand over your warm belly. I feel happy – I am still so madly in love with you, and being so close to you in the early mornings feels like the most natural thing.

“Thanks for leaving me dinner last night,” I say in a quiet voice. “Oh, and I ate that last peanut butter ice-cream, by the way.”

I glance up as I say this, to catch on your face the reaction I was seeking: a smile. I love to see it – I’m in love with it, your smile.

“That’s okay,” you reply simply.

I close my eyes and find your hand under the sheets. I listen to your breath and let my head be rocked up and down as your chest rises and falls. The light in the room glows brighter, and soon it will be time for us to get up, and get on with the rest of the day.

questioning.

Forces around us cause us to bend and to flicker like flames; they sometimes threaten to put us out. We must, through our own strength, regain our footing to shine once more. Is the flame – are – the same as before? Continually shaped by the world – everything outside of us – and yet, we are inside the world. And like a mother feels the kick of her baby in the womb, perhaps so, too, can the world witness and be affected by our continuous journey through the cycle of defeat and conquest. But if we are, as it very well might be the case, perpetually evolving, who are we really?

O Mio Babbino Caro.

“One day, I was a student here, just like you!” I say enthusiastically, balancing the harp in between my knees, feeling the curious eyes of the students on me and my instrument.

I am glad to be here, though I think that is the case only because you are. I would not be this happy if you were not in the room. Can you tell my joy? I wish to look your way, but cannot let this crowd in on my secret. I pretend I do not feel your gaze on me, and I pretend that I do not care for it, though I have always loved and wanted to be seen by you. I know you are smiling, and I am almost sure that you know of my gladness, and of its primary cause, which causes a slight blush to appear across my cheeks.

“What song should I play for you now? Any ideas?” I ask the group of students, while simultaneously running through the list of songs I know in my mind to hopefully find one that is suitable.

It is your voice that I hear. “How about O Mio Babbino Caro?”

What a great choice – one of the most known operatic arias of all times. The melody comes into my mind instantly – a melody of longing and despair – about a woman begging her father to help her marry the man she loves.

Once my performance and demonstration is over, I stand up from my chair to start packing up. The kids head off to recess. You remain in the room. I don’t know if I am surprised to see you making your way toward me. Perhaps I am surprised that you are still so kind and grateful to me after all these years.

I feel your hand on my shoulder, and am stunned by your touch, and at how warm, and pleasant, and safe it feels.

“Thank you”, is all you say, and I know that you mean it, and that you think I’ve done well, and that you think highly of me.

Your hand lingers on my shoulder for a moment longer, and my heart smiles and feels at peace. How nice and comforting it is, to be loved by you.

(This was a dream I had last night – or should I say this morning – that was strangely vivid, especially the moment of physical touch and how loved & safe I felt).

Make-up (a reason).

She had never been much into make-up and giving much importance to one’s own appearance. For a start, wearing make-up used to make her skin feel trapped and her eyelids heavy. She had never found much pleasure in putting make-up on and she did not even perceive any advantages to it. It cost money, it did not feel comfortable, and one used it to hide one’s natural self.

So she was somewhat confused and curious as to why she found herself paying attention to her physical appearance on the days she went in to work and the days she went to church. To her surprise, she found herself applying a thin layer of foundation, and a subtle cloud of blush on her cheekbones, a touch of mascara and just enough eyeliner to bring out her green eyes. And of course, what she liked best: lipstick. Most often of a fairly neutral tone, but on other occasions, she wore a more bold and deep red.

The only common factor between her work place and church was the presence of this one man, whom she felt had very much to do with her decision to wear make-up. Yet, she had too much respect for him to have as an intention seducing him. And anyway, she was already in love with someone else.

But she did want — something; else she would not be doing what she was now doing.

The motive and intention behind her own behaviour revealed itself each time she stood in front of the mirror. She simply wanted to look pleasing and pretty for this man. That she was a person his eyes liked to see. That the mere sight of her was to him a gift, in just the same way that his presence was a gift in her own life.

A walk down the aisle.

By some strange phenomenon, you and I ended up paired to process down the aisle. I had such joy in my belly I could have laughed. Was God looking down from above and feeling content about bringing us together for this seemingly insignificant, but somehow symbolic, event? It felt to me like He was, for as much as I loved that you ended up by my side, it was completely not my doing (and I doubt it was yours either). It was merely … Fate.

I was trying so hard to suppress this excitement and joy as we walked the dozens of steps to the altar. I hoped not a single soul could pick up on how happy it made me simply to walk by your side, to be close to you. So I looked in the direction opposite to you, faking a serious expression on my face, when inside my heart was exploding: here I was walking down the aisle with my idol, my hero, my soul mate, my friend, my teacher – you who I have loved in secret for a decade at least.

(And I will never stop, I know this to be true).

An old new friend.

This afternoon was an experience that exceeded my imagination and my expectations. My heart is full, satisfied, joyful and at peace – just the way one feels after eating a truly nourishing meal. I have trouble believing it happened, trouble believing that you and I actually did meet this day, and spent time conversing and getting to know one another. I am surprised by Life and by its beautiful unfolding, and grateful to the Universe for continuing to make you a part of my life. How much do I appreciate you!

It is true that I did not know very much what to expect. I was bubbling with excitement, and felt sick to the stomach with nerves. But it did not take long for the nerves to leave. I was able to sit back in my chair, and breathe, and communicate. You behaved exactly as I hoped, exactly as I knew that you would: showing interest and care, asking questions and responding to everything I said. I had always known you would be a good friend to me, but to finally experience it was incredible. What a relief to have that tangible experience, that actual memory, of a friendship I had for so long dreamed of and believed possible. It has become true. It is no longer a wish, it is reality, and I am so grateful to you for allowing it to happen.

I still don’t know for sure what my feelings are. I suppose they resemble Love. That is, I think perhaps that I love you. But not the type of love that’s shown in movies. This love is not romantic, not based on attraction at a physical level, nor is it codependent and selfish (at least I hope not). I would describe it as spiritual love, simply because my feelings are so strong, defy any reason, and are never going to change, regardless of what action you take, as if those feelings were outside of me, outside of my body (though they are in my heart).

So I love you, I love having you in my life, I love to see you, I love to speak with you. I cannot believe you are willing to be my friend, but I am so thankful that is the case, for this friendship is incredibly meaningful to me. Thank you for all you have ever given me – your presence has really been a gift, a blessing in my short little life. May you always know how much I appreciate you.

She.

There was an air about her, if one looked at her long enough.

Physically, she was quite a beautiful person, and pleasant to look at. She was rather tall and skinny, with long limbs. Her dark blond hair fell just below her shoulders, and it would smoothly frame her triangular face when she did not have it tied up either in a ponytail or in a side braid. Her eyes, nose and mouth were well proportioned such that neither one jumped out at you when you saw her face. She wore modest clothing: her shoulders and thighs were always covered. Green clothing had the tendency to bring out her eyes, which were of a greenish-grey colour.

But there really was an air about her. An air of mystery, I suppose – an air of being so much more than she was showing.

Perhaps it was in the way her face lit up when you started conversing with her. The mouth would curve into a smile, and her eyes would open a little wider as she spoke to you. Her countenance would open up, and she would let you have a glimpse of her inner world for the duration of her replies, which were always quite short and to the point. Her voice was smooth and gentle, with no rough edges, and one would have to listen carefully not to miss her words. She would then close up again, as if she had shown enough of herself for the time being.

Perhaps it was in the way she seemed to avoid conversation, even though one could tell how much she listened. She took in the world around her, and analysed it and made sense of it secretly in that mind of hers. She rarely gave opinions, but did so when asked. I often wondered what thoughts she thought; what did she keep inside her that she did not share with anything or anyone but her notebook, which was never far away? She had the tendency to stay away from people, and to remain outside of conversations, although always observing from her place.

I would see her and be intrigued by how put together she appeared, and how solitary she came across, being quiet and reserved around everybody who crossed her path …

(Probably an unfinished piece – I tried to describe myself from somebody else’s perspective. Interesting exercise!)

Friends.

I should like to meet with you one day, just you and me, and a little privacy.

I can see us, sitting opposite one another, at a table tucked away in the back corner of a cafe. You would be kind with me as you always are, and ask me questions about work and about music, while waiting for our orders to arrive. I would answer as best as I could, occasionally daring to look up to meet your gaze, picking at the skin near my thumb nail under the table to hide my nervousness from you. My mind would be racing about what to say, whilst at the same time trying to remain calm and anticipating with terror that moment when I will have to speak my heart and share my truth.

The conversation would temporarily quieten down as the waiter brings the coffees. I reach for mine instantly, blowing on it to cool it down, staring at the liquid – doing anything to avoid the one reason I had come for. I take in breath after breath, trying to find in the air a sense of courage perhaps. The words – so often rehearsed in my head – turn into a jumble of non-sense that my mind labels as stupid and insignificant, lame and pointless. You sit quietly, waiting, for you know there is something I long to say.

“I do not want to take up too much of your time”, I start, lifting my eyes to meet yours, and lowering them back to my long black, “so I will say this in the simplest way I can think of.”

I take another breath, stare some more at the coffee, blow once more on its steam, feeling even more acutely the anxiety making me want to hide and run away as far as I can.

“I’ve come to the conclusion that -“, shoulders lift with the inhale, “- I want you to be my friend.”

Sigh of relief. There, it is said. It is out in the open. As I gulp the coffee, feeling first my tongue, and then my throat, burn, I await your laugh. I await your judgment of me. Or perhaps you will get up and walk away, and your cup will stay on the table as the sole evidence of a beautiful chance ruined by my feelings and honesty. I await your reaction, head lowered. I wish I could look up, and smile at you, but I am ready to cry – oh how I want to hide. But I hear silence, deafening silence. And then –

“I am very touched by that,” you say, “of course I will be your friend.”

I timidly lift my face to find you smiling at me. I try to smile back, but another weight stops the corners of my mouth from curving.

“So … you don’t think I’m crazy or weird?”

Boom boom, boom boom, my heart hits my heavy chest.

“Not at all, Eliza, not at all.”

I lean back in my chair, exhausted and overwhelmed with emotion. Our eyes meet and I feel more confident to smile. I know you have seen me, I know you have heard me. And I know that you know how much this means to me. And I know that today was just the continuation and recognition of a friendship that already existed, for you have always been my friend.

Wishes.

My life has been blessed with miracles.

I know this because many of my wishes have come true. That is miraculous in itself.

Picture the younger me – do you remember what I was like? – shy, introverted, mysterious, with a shaky self-esteem yet strongly independent and fiercely resilient. The younger me that met you and found so much about you to admire and love. The younger me that grew curious about you, and I suppose curiosity, in one way or another, leads to some kind of attraction.

Enthralled by your person, by your essence, by the virtues you espoused, by the amazingness you brought to the world around you, younger me made a number of wishes. I made the wish to know you better, more intimately; I made the wish to bump into you at random places; to meet your family; to sing for you. I told myself that I would become a musician just so that your spirit and your legacy could live on in my music.

Those wishes, those secret wishes, those dreams I was too embarrassed about to share with anybody. I wrote them down, but never sought to make them happen. I wished them and let them go, out into the universe where somewhere, the Universe received them and decided I was to experience the miracles of having all my wishes come true.

In truth, I never expected I would see you again after high school was over. I thought you would just become some best thing that had happened to me – not some best thing that is always happening.

I remember the first time bumping into you after 2012. It was at a piano competition in which I was a performer and you were the adjudicator. When I heard you would be adjudicating, my heart filled with joy and excitement. I simply could not wait to see you! I had found it so funny and odd – miraculous – that of all the pianists and teachers that could have adjudicated this competition, you were the one that had ended up there, in my path once again.

The second time I bumped into you was even more random than the first time. It was a few years later, perhaps 2016 or 2017. Walking around the busy merchandise stands at a Cirque du Soleil performance during the interval, who do I find but you, with your wife! I was under such surprise and shock I could barely speak properly, and said something very stupid when you kindly asked me how I was finding the show.

My wish of bumping into you therefore became true, and twice at that.

A year or so after our chance meeting at Cirque du Soleil, I befriended a harpist who is a really good singer. When she heard me sing, she invited me to sing with a church choir, and told me the name of the conductor. You can imagine my surprise when the name was yours. It felt like the Universe was handing me out a gift – I could not refuse it. I graciously accepted the invitation. When I sing at church, it is not because I am religious. It is not because I believe in the Catholic church, in the forgiveness of sins, in the resurrection of Christ. I sing because it was always a wish of mine to sing for you. And so, this wish has come true.

In January this year, your mother passed. When you asked whether the choir could sing, it was a no-brainer for me. I would sing for you night or day, rain or sunshine, life or death. As sad as the occasion was, it felt to me like another sacred opportunity from the Universe. How else could I be of service to you? I could play music. And so I did. As I plucked the strings of my instrument, I thought of you, and I thought of how the music was my gift to you, not just in this moment but in all moments. How special and meaningful it was for me to be able to give you music – the gift you had given me a decade prior – in this intimate occasion as your mother’s funeral.

It was on this same day that another of my wishes came true: that of meeting your family. I recognised your wife, I learnt that you had a sister, I spoke to your two sons (who funnily enough are around my age), and what’s more, your father came to thank me for the harp music. There was something special about that day; I felt so glad to have been able to be at your mother’s funeral. I was so glad I could play music and sing for you. My heart was overflowing with gratitude – what a beautiful experience it was.

Our paths continued to cross when I was offered a tutoring position at the school where you teach, the school where you taught me and treated me so kindly, the school where I made all of my wishes, the school where one of the best things that’s ever happened to me (you) happened. I took on the job, not necessarily because it pays well, or because it’s convenient, or because it’s what I love to do. But it does provide me with the opportunity to see you & communicate with you more frequently. I could not reject such a opportunity.

I loved that you were in my life in high school. I still love to have you in my life. The fact that the Universe has kept bringing you back makes your presence in my life seem like a thread weaving between all the different parts and simultaneously holding them altogether. It is discreet, but ever present. Seemingly insignificant, but irreplaceable.

Considering the wishes I had made ten years ago have all come true, I have gone ahead and made some new wishes. I do not know if these will come true, but I do certainly hope they well. And I know if they do come true, my heart will be filled with wonder, joy and gratitude, like an overflowing fountain.

My first wish is for us to be friends, and for our connection to feel less formal. Perhaps you already consider me your friend, but I do not, though I feel this could change. I feel very much weighed down by the teacher-student template in which we originally met, and in which friendship is often not allowed. I suppose I still perceive you as an authority figure, rather than as my equal. But I do wish that this will change over time the more we interact and see each other.

My second wish is that you attend my wedding. The assumption of this wish of course is that I will get married one day. But I am fairly confident this will happen. And when it does, I would love to see you sitting along my friends and my family. I would love for you to sit at dinner with us, and for you and I to exchange a few words, and a few photos. I would love for you to be there, because you were the catalyst to my growth and to my path and to meeting the love of my life.

My third wish is that I become your anam cara, your ‘soul friend’ in the last days of your life. I know how meaningful it would be to spend time with you before you transition, and be of service to you, and fullfil yet again my wish of singing for you. Oh I would sing and I would play harp and I would offer you my tender companionship, and be so glad to have met you and to have shared parts of my life with you, and so grateful to the Universe to have given me such a human being in my life. I would make sure you feel as loved as you are & deserve when your soul decides to leave this plane.

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