People often ask me, how I knew that I was in love. Even though you never held my hand or caressed my neck nor whisper honeyed words into my ears.
I still knew.
I still knew that it was you.
I told them that it was the littlest things that would suffice. When you would walk into the room and you would smile at your friends and then look around to catch my eye and warmth would emanate through the dust particles between us, only to make everything more pure. The way the sound of your laugh was more than just a laugh and a sweet melody like Mozart to my ears. How your smile was my secret hiding place on days when I felt the weight of my own thoughts on my shoulders. How our little conversations were the music that put me to sleep and how they were the first remembrances in my mind at 7 AM when I woke. That’s when I contemplated as to why people phrase it “falling in love” because you were a manifestation that I rose to every single day. But that part comes later, because only if I knew. Only if I had payed enough attention to the red traffic signal instead of getting consumed in the joys of the green one. If only I would have shut the windows a bit tighter to prevent the rain from seeping through, onto my wooden floors, turning them a darker shade. If only I would have blown out the candle a bit earlier.
But those few moments with you were bountiful and full of life- endless exuberant sunlit days of a young girl, of a one-sided kind of love. The rush of adrenaline by just thinking of you. The unforced and natural smile on my face and the irregular thudding of my heart against my cage. If it wasn’t for all these, then would true love be? I used to think that maybe one day, I would wake up and see your face next to mine, how your caramel hair tousled callously around your temples. How I would know how you like your coffee on Sunday mornings and how we would bicker about the most foolish things, only to come apologizing on each other’s doors in the evening. Ever wondered if “maybes” just remain “maybes” or turn out to be “never”?
I was unsure as to what possibly went wrong. What shift had taken place in the cosmos, where was the faultline under my earth, that I had to reassemble myself from the doom of unrequited love. And that’s when I realized why they call it “falling in love”. It’s a sudden dive into the depths of the oceans where nothing but your feelings and affection matter. Everything else becomes unimportant and secondary. You lose grasp of your own belongings and your own-self whilst in search of the rare pearl.
And how foolish was I and still am to let those memories of you make my bones warm on a winter’s day.