Serenity is in the peak of daylight when all is quiet. All is calm. Reflective. Pure.
When I see you, and only you, time may pass. I would urge the time to slow down, with you.
I want to be with you.
I want to give you space.
If we had one hour together, we would drink coffee and laugh. Breathe in the frosty air, and walk alongside each other. You would ask me to dinner and I may say yes, only if we have something good. You would open the door for me, and my heart will swell, because I am not used to this. To you.
We could walk to a bookstore and read out loud to each other. If that is too mundane, we could walk silently together, to a park or somewhere you deem fun. As long as we are together. Even for an hour.
If we had a week, or a little more, I would like to take you to my hometown. Visit street murals and look at graffiti art. I would like to take you to where I lived when I was five, a little street on the intersection of Sunset Blvd. I would tell you that I was born in a hospital that no longer exists, torn down and renovated into a shopping center because that is what big cities do to independent businesses. I would take you to the park where I used to play in the sandbox, and tell you that I was bullied by a boy named Lincoln, or was it Tyler? Then I would tell you that we are now friends on Facebook, our childhood youth long forgotten through the reins of adulthood. Strange how time heals.
I would like to hear about your childhood, and what your favorite color was when you were seven. I would like to know who your grade school teachers were. Do you still keep in touch with them?
If we had more time, a month or a year, we could be simple. We would text each other funny words and set up dates. You would listen to me talk about my woes at work, and in turn, I would expect to hear about yours. We would eat good food, and sip on tea, hike along the mountain ridge and take ridiculous selfies on my smartphone. We would vacation outside of the norm. Go somewhere secluded. We would meditate, and connect through our mind streams. We say everything, without speaking at all. It is more important to me than anything else, and you would know this, because you feel the same way.
We would work in silence in the same room, never needing to talk, because we are communicating deeply, in our hearts. I will talk to you about depreciation schedules and you will pretend to understand. You are far smarter than I, but I will complain nonetheless. You will tell me about your annoying aunt, who wants to start a business with you. We would discuss things in detail, until they make sense. We would live the normal life, you and I. Adulthood a blessing in reflection.
I will be rational, and you will too. We will drink coffee in the mornings and I will eat pastries with you. You will read the latest news, and be compassionate about human rights. We will vacation in the woods and you will watch me use a French press. I will tell you that I like flowly white curtains on windows and mirrors. I will take landscape photos and write metaphoric captions and you would roll your eyes, because captions are lame.
We will know that love is a home to many moments. Moments of normalcy and comfort. That normal life. In time, if we had time.
But if that is too much for you, we can easily forget one another, for we are strangers mostly, and goodbyes are not awkward.
Though I will never forget you, not really.