Happy

If walking through a store or possibly a home and spelling that perfume, I will instantly and forever think of you. Happy by Clinique. Something that doesn’t fit neatly into one category, much like you. Something that constantly revolves around musk or floral or orange, not easy to describe in any sense, much like you. But without a doubt it is a scent that is so delicate and happy, much like you or much like you strive to be. Perhaps you wear a perfume that smells like happy with some desire that this word will somehow sink through into your veins, sliding gracefully into your heart cavity and permanently reside there. That the happy you wear wont have to come from a perfume bottle anymore. You, someone who had a life that was not filled with too many bottles of happiness perfume. The loss you suffered, the decisions you were forced to make, the strength that almost seemed mandatory. The moves, the disease, the breakups, the harshness of the world in general. Maybe, just maybe that’s why you drench your clothing and the nape of your neck in something that promises the smell of happiness. If only you are able to inhale what happiness is supposed to smell like, then maybe, just maybe you could taste happiness, live happiness, feel happiness. Long ago this perfume seemed to be a mask. One that was obvious, one that you believed had people fooled. That if people smelled happiness on your freckled skin, then you believed that they would believe that you were in fact happy. But, lately the happiness of your perfume seem to express your inner thoughts and happiness rather than mask them. It seems to be an extension of the deepest part of your soul and, nothing makes me happier than knowing that now not only do you smell like happiness but you feel like happiness. Happiness for you doesn’t come out of a perfume bottle anymore, it comes out of your soul and that perfect smile of yours.

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Just you and I

I lay here on this leather couch, the sun just set, the stars are rising in the sky. The light from the moon begins to slowly spill through the open shutters and the room becomes filled, ocean deep in a soft glow. We lay together, you and me, just the way it works best. There we are, smothered in moonlight in that quiet room clinging to each other,  too afraid of what would happen if we let go. If I open my eyes will you have just been a sweet and perfect dream? The kind of dream that leaves you breathless, the kind that takes you hours to separate from? Will the long walks by the river and the warm summer sunsets drift away like all my other dreams. If I breathe too loudly will I blow all of this away like a child blows a freshly picked dandelion in the summer time, will you have just been my single wish? If I blink will our lives flash before me too rapidly for me to stop it? Will I flash forward and miss all this life has to offer us? If I fall asleep will I wake to us in our old age laying in the warn in, butter cream sheets in the home we have had for 50 years? We cling to each other because we are too afraid of what would happen if we let go. My breath begins to quicken and I feel your grasp on me grow tighter, are you thinking of this too? I want to sink in the cold,crisp ocean with you, and drink the tartest wine in Italy, I want to get a sunburn in the Caribbean and never stop holding your hand. I want to fall asleep under the perfect set of stars, and dance in the middle of the street, no street in particular, just about all of them. I want to smell your cologne on your neck and run away to Paris for awhile. I want our laughter to fill the quiet streets on a cold night, I want to get lost in the jungle and, meet every member of your family. I want to build a million tents and see a million places and be with only you.  I have a full life planned for you and I, don’t let me go.

Memories

Have you ever wondered why you remember little tiny details from your life, usually lasting only a few moments and that seem to hold no real value? Because, if you are like me, I cant seem to remember what I had for breakfast yesterday, was it toast or, maybe cheerios. I mean its rather clear why I can graphically recall flipping over my handlebars and skidding down the drive way at the ripe age of four or the moment when I was eleven and my mother sat us down to tell us she had cancer, but what about the tiny, seemingly random moments that you can not seem to forget. Why do I remember being six and my brother being three and “riding” our magic carpets (our blankies laying on the floor of my childhood house). Why do I perfectly recall sitting in the passenger seat of my grandparents old, roughly worn truck seat and singing a christmas song with my grandfather. Its so clear that I can picture sitting there, my small hands covered in white mittens and riding the smooth country road to his house. Why do I recount the smell of buttery popcorn being made on the stove of our tiny house. I can see my beautiful mother standing there telling us it’s almost ready and her laughing about a joke that has drifted along with my memory.  Why can I see myself riding down the block, wind in my hair, pink handlebars and all, on my way to my very best childhood friends house. Why do I remember laying in the backyard, the sun hitting us just right as my brother and I lay in the warm green grass. These random things I can not forget. Will they show me something about myself in the future, did I do something life changing without knowing, will I be shown these moments five people you meet in heaven style. Maybe we all remember these tiny moments because, while they were small, they were perfect. Maybe we felt an enormous amount of love, or happiness, or just flat out joy. As I grow older I cant think of a better afternoon than laying in the grass with my brother, and what I wouldn’t give to be sitting in that cold, old truck with my warm, perfect grandfather. Memories are all we have, as we get older. People leave us, you move away from home, and the world never ceases to change. Memories are what ground us, what inspire us and what makes us feel at home. While most are random and seem to hold no true value, if you think about it, most of these memories are perfect. Simple, short, and perfect.

An old poem.

My rearview mirror fills,

With a skyline I once knew,

Though I know the skyline remains the same,

What’s different can’t be viewed.

The memories fill my mind,

As I take a look around,

Of the trees that changed from green to gold and all the buildings that don’t make a sound,

A smile creeps upon my face,

As I think of our time in this place,

Our laughter that once filled the streets,

When time came easy and love came free,

With every brick I step upon,

Your memories fill my mind,

Of a time that was so magical it forever changed my life.

So when you’re down and lonely,

Or you happen to stumble across downtown,

Remember though surrounding change,

What we have remains all the same,

A time when the future was only tomorrow,

The past just yesterday,

A time when we came together and simply enjoyed one another,

The skyline slips out of view,

As I drive away,

But the happiness we once shared and a smile still remains.