It was one of those fun days when all the chores had a boldly struck line impaling their guts on a list.
I found myself sunk “single-bottom-ly” in a two-armed chair. Arm stretched out loaded with a whip for the television. Signaling a red light each time I pushed a button to wire a change in the motion picture.
Mute but i had that feeling of being alright. I was relaxed, and in a stable mood I haven’t found myself in a long while. I was still trying to figure out my bearings off the devil’s box when the curtain raised.
Then came this sudden theatrical halo of light with a periphery of blindness hovering around -the usual pyromaniacal entrance of a spectre- ushering in the womanly figure. It was quite fast though (It wasn’t in slow motion)
All roses no thorns, pink light garment loosely fitting her figure. Arms stretched out levering a piece of the cloth around her neck as she hopped across the relics on Mars to near my Earth.
She had a broad smile of belonging and a body language of intimacy, and I had a memory of a recently stroked patient, or worse, that of an Alzheimer’s. I had a previously conceived level of familiarity of her and none has her hopping towards me.
She landed her motherly arm on the arm of the chair I was resting, my eyes was off the TV now and heart was picking up pace. She blinded my view till I could only see as far as her veil of pink. Then came a short spell territorial dance with her arms popping and her alar wielding.
Then she rested her hefty lofty at arm’s length. With veil around and her feminine figure beside me, she uttered no word to me but gestured to a company of friends that was trickling in through the door.
The friends had the look of “oh! Yet another theatrics” while I kept wallowing deeper in the blue. I looked into her eyes asking, without speaking a word “is this us?” And she looked lovingly back into mine to say “you’re mine.”
Arms around my neck now as her arm caressed my nape and her veil lined the bare back of mine clothed only by two strips of cloth holding my vest in place as far as the base of my scapular.
I was filled with joy with which words to describe are yet to be fathomed by the English dictionary. I could feel the joy building with in me. In her arms at last.
Where else could I dream to be?