The story starts so: How long must one wait for love?
As a young shoot I acquainted myself with little friends and the best ones were not the Belinda’s, but brave Regarts, nerdy Leslies and show-off Calvins (at that time I wasn’t worried about not knowing anyone called “Klein”).
I learned to wait to see my crazy, smart, interesting, funny, weird sometimes, ingenious and everything else that’s good, friends almost every afternoon.
Turning from a sprouting shoot into a willowy leaf, I became aware of men. Along a country and city roads it became a washing line bending from the weight of acquaintances, friends and of course eventually, lovers. Some wore masks and others portrayed themselves as heroes or warriors and protective guardians, earths-men and farmers, intellectuals slipping over their own words and such. I’m skipping the “angelic” ones as it will take a day and half getting to the bottom of that slimey well. Some faded into the background and fragments of memory but became figurative outlines forever etched into parts of my dreams. Some strayed far too far for me to remember them, but a lot of them are forever etched in my sometimes breakable heart.
All these comings and goings...I left one or was left to watch him go. These gods ruling in my life and heart, as I would think: "Why does all good things have to end?”
Apart from becoming slightly synical, I'm quite naive, apparently. Believing in genuine love. The True Love that exists above all other things, going against the odds and bells that shouts from rooftops that no such thing exists.
Must be the music of the heart – can’t be possessed and neither consumed. It can be a danger and safety bound together, something ultimately fragile, yet strong and so passionate. It could resonate like an oracle in the chambers of the heart, more so when life can be bleak at times, or not so neat...And it makes the waiting worth every mile.
So, I waited a little bit more impatient this time, for that elusive person to venture or accidentally stumble into my life. And I fell in love again.
Into my life came another three and remembered by their remarkable arrivals they appeared in the following order:
The Fair-haired one
A dark and honourable Knight on his white horse appeared on the horizon and sadly he passed by...
So I waited a little more.
Along came the dreamy Fair-haired one with the golden walking stick and gumboots and no good either...
And it happened again.
Then the agile Goat with centuries of noble blood, but unreliable... Tap-tap-tap-
And the gnomes, trolls, selkies and water-horses marched passed me, but not worth mentioning today.
I waited and waited again...
Now I don’t wait anymore, but live life in a fairy garden of tilting dewy leafs, rainbow-colour mushrooms and flower petals strewn accross my lawn.
And one day the elusive mustang will appear, I know that. Free-roaming, wild and utterly untamable. He will stop by and acquaint himself with an object of interest who I presume will be me. As for me, I’ll pretend to be unaware of this unannounced arrival, uninterested in his showing-off manner, pretend to be oblivious to such a pure existence and appear to not be glancing from under shadowy eyelashes into his direction.
See, there is something so very exciting about the falling-through-the-sky kind of living and waiting...