A State of Pondering
Thoughts of a hopeless romantic
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I wonder if the words “I wonder” make their way to the front of your mind as much as they do to mine. I wonder if everyone wonders and if more people are prone to wondering than others. And finally, I wonder if he wonders. More specifically, I wonder if he wonders about me.
Recently, I’ve been catching myself in the middle of analysing my days like on the bus ride home and before I drift off to sleep. It’s the little words that keep me replaying the same five minutes. Little words that may not even be of any consequence to the people I said them to but my mind grapples with them like a hook in the roof of a fish’s mouth. Most of the time I’m pondering why I said a word or how it landed or even if the person feels any different after this said word. My gosh, these words!
They are fluid and even the same word can have a world of meanings. A loved one’s words can feel like little kisses emanating from the speaker’s mouth that fall gently on your skin to caress and hold you. And as you go about your day, the caresses seep into you to hug you from the inside out. I genuinely wish my words felt like this. But what if my words do make this journey but the island they would have thought to be refuge didn’t welcome them? I’ll mention another category of words. It’s made up of the meaningless words that escape. Most of the time I add them to the end of sentences and they take the form of insults. When this happens I don’t know what to blame. My mind? No, I didn’t even think about the word, it slipped. My heart? No, I don’t even mean the word. I end up in that void of unknowingness in which the overbearing question is whether I should apologise.
During these sessions of meditation, I naturally ask questions. I ponder if he likes it when I pull his hand close to me and trace little circles around his knuckles and fingertips, even whilst we’re having separate conversations. I ask if he notices that I light up when I see him in the mornings. Never have I gone to Literary Criticism at a quarter to eight in the morning so smiley. Then after all these musings, a doubt dawns: does he wonder? Does his mind drift during his lessons, whilst eating or at any point during the day? Do the little gestures, moments, and words we share pop up and out onto his mind’s stage with a spotlight on them? I wonder if he gets caught replaying etching hieroglyphs on my jeans or cocooning my face in between the palms of his hands. The only thing I hope he doesn’t wonder about is the category of meaningless words that get away from me and I just wish he’ll forget them.
Loving is a wonderful thing full of bouts of wondering. Bouts of thoughts so strong, you have to let them flow out of you or the mind jams like a printer that has too many commands.
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just wow.. beautiful.