just because.
The impermanence of love is the point.
Is it okay that my crust gets cut off my toast just because I’d prefer it?
Maybe my apple gets cut into small pieces just so, my hand gets held, coffee paid for. Maybe it matters if I slept well, that I was in your thoughts when you woke up, that I said that funny thing. That my hands were full so you moved the hair out of my eyes. How precious and special a feeling, to even have experienced once, the making of a smoothie for someone you love. To then notice bananas differently, to care which colour will taste better on their lips. To see that particular blue bottled yoghurt and know it will blend better. To buy the pretty cup because you want everything that touches their hands to be easy for them. To get the bundle deal on reusable straws because everything entering them should be done so gently, reverently.
How free and terrifying a thing. You will be convinced to keep readying and preparing and working on yourself but can you ever really truly prepare for this. Did you ever really want to?
It means the people you love and who love you will really really hurt and you won’t be able to fix it. it means that the world can be an unfamiliar and scary place - that you have to hold people tighter and say the things and love really hard. And risk falling and maybe being ripped apart. there is no guarantee of both or either.
Love is not something for only the good people, for the performers, for the ones more deserving. How deep does that go? Where would it go? if you followed it. Is there any point, analysing what you do and don’t deserve, when you could just be here now.
Like all beautiful things, love exists when it’s got holes at the bottom of the pot so it can breathe. When you hang it up in the sunroom by the windowsill and give it all the conditions to grow and maybe eventually you see sprouts and maybe you won’t. Those are the conditions, that there aren’t any. That you might buy the fruit and maybe it’ll go off or maybe you’ll make banana bread. maybe both, who’s to say. who would know? What a silly thing it would be, to decide not to buy the fruit, when you could potentially have cake.
Can you ever really know how that coffee is going to taste, before you drink it? Maybe it’s worth just spending the time to admire the cup and saucer and the beautiful spoon. Maybe it’s okay that it’s brought to you, that you didn’t need to get up and return the favour. Sometimes you’ll be the coffee maker and sometimes you’ll be the one holding the pretty mug, and that could be unequal or messy or a little bit uneven sometimes. maybe you take a sip anyway.
Tomorrow’s tomorrow but there is only one now and if it’s the now where you get your sheets washed, where your shoes get lined up at the door, where you get the good morning texts and the sweet nothings, then so be it. that’s alright, too.
Maybe you get love songs sent to you, I miss you’s and dates that feel like romcoms and you just stay here. and you savour each bit like it’s going to be your last and maybe it’s not but you wouldn’t know that anyway.
You can hold on to it like it’s leaving, but it would be even odds that it’s also just arriving, and one allows you to enjoy it more.
the worst thing is that you’re feeling it all and that’s really okay because what’s important is that you’re feeling.
That even the tip of your smallest toe, and the top corner of the back of your ear get a chance to shiver.
It’s okay if you want to pause in that shudder, rather than interpreting it.
What a great success, allowing oneself to be loved and to love in return, just because. To be seen and acknowledged just because you are a person and people need to be seen. Maybe that’ll be transformative and even if it won’t be, it’s still worth it. Maybe you could loosen your grip, just a little, and just allow the peanut butter jar to have finger marks in the middle. Maybe you stay in your body long enough to learn it won’t consume you - we feel nerves when it’s scary but we also get that feeling from rollercoasters. And when it’s really scary maybe you say so and it’s okay that you leave it said out loud and you still drink the smoothie.
The point is, that there is none. you can trust yourself to know when it’s too much, if it feels wrong. it’s okay to change your mind too, when and if you get to that.
it’s okay to love because it’s impermanent and to want it to stay but to know that everything changes and grows and ends, eventually.
you never forget the smell of warm banana bread and it’s better when the butter melts.
All my love, C x