Archive for August, 2011

One love affair blooms by Yaari

August 10, 2011

It was my first love affair and it consumed me.  He was tall dark and handsome.  I worshiped his style.  He drove the car of power.  I remember riding in it and thinking that I was the princess.  No one else around had such a car.  He was the power.  And, over time the desire to be around that power was intensified by the roar of the motorcycles that became his toys.  The roar of that big engine and the silver tank and the big black wheels coming around the corner made my heart beat jump and run.

Never a harsh word can I recall.  His hands; they were big, brown and warm.  My eyes were always looking up those chocolate brown arms that disappeared into cotton short sleeves to the soft collar and then to the underside of that brown brown chin.  Firm and soft, eyes a little distant, but his presense was always there in the squeeze of a hand.

I am fifty two now so that was a long time ago.  Like clothes in the big bubble window of the landrymat the memories tumble warm and soft and the colors change as they move forward and back colliding with my lazy gaze.  And, I realize that I am still in love.

Daddy, he has been no other name.  Dean came after love.  Gentle warms me still.  The feel of soft lips blowing bubbles into my tummy and the high pitched giggles of me and sisters.  His pulling on toes to crack them as the squeals poured out of my mouth.  There were tickles and chin ups, hand stands, and long walks.  I was tadpole often wriggling and squirming.  I was monkey jumping.  I was tree climbing and mango or guava grabbing.  Maybe five or six and the making of memories was too much for the littleness of me; it felt as if I had to puff out to take them all in.

It has to be more than genes.  He must have melted into me somehow; entered my soul, or maybe that is what makes soul, little pieces of love that linger forever.  Some say I am intense; maybe that’s where it came from.  We didn’t know it consciously, but we didn’t have much time.  Death was already knocking at his door.