There are days when I would run out of words to say because poetry would have cartwheeled its way in between our sweaty palms as we rush down our favourite sunlit fields in fits of laughter hand in hand, or in between your tangled curly hair I couldn’t braid in between rushed morning school runs, or in between imaginary enchanted forests we’d play hopscotch for hours before sunset, or in between the same comfort of sunlight we’d chase each day but never get enough of. It’s funny how we look at the same sky with a different kind of marvel each day, each hour. But I guess maybe that’s how it is with the things we love - I have a picture of you captured on my phone each day; same smile, new love.
We are all each other’s lessons and teachers. While I’m busy telling you to not go so high and to be mindful of these edges, you are constantly showing me the best way to live my life - big smiles, soaring high and not caring what people think.
I hope we’ll always grasp the lessons from every person we encounter, every most-awaited moment, every unpleasant experience, every sharp edge and corner, every sight and smell of the places we discover, every nightmare, every monster under the bed, every monster within us, every dream come true and every good dream that hopefully won’t lead us astray.
But most importantly, I hope we’ll always grasp these lessons in the manner you’ve taught me - big smiles, soaring high and not caring what people think.
Maybe the grocery list
isn't just
"butter
fruitcake
juice"
Maybe if we read between the lines,
just maybe, we might find
the tired handwriting singing out loud -
"I want to bake you your favourite cake"
"or we could share this loaf from the bakery
and you can have the bigger slice"
"I love you."
