"Yes," he said.
Like a cat, I went right over and plopped down in his chair. His chair.
"What are you doing?" he ask me. A big frown growing on his face.
"You have no idea how wonderful this it!" I said.
His desk was a magical landscape of treasures. Various little stacks of things here & there. To me, it was like years of his DNA of life experiences was laying there for me to see. Little stories sitting out there waiting to be told. His life spread out in front of me. Beacons holding keys.
I looked over at him, our eyes locked. He was exposed.
"Oh, no," he said, as he tugged on my arm pulling me out of his chair.
I would have been happy to just sit there & gaze at it all. Taking the essence of him in. I wanted to gently touch each treasure. To hear its story from his lips & memorize the emotions as they ran across his face. His heart.
"Please," I ask.
Since then, I have often thought about doing the same. Spreading my life across my desk or my coffee table. Once I tried, but it all became to distracting.
Yesterday I was fiddling around with my camera as I walked by my coffee table. I looked in the view finder as I walked by & the colors on the table caught my eye. The colorful spiral notebook contrasting with parts of my life haphazardly tossed on the table.
Then I thought about him. And I wondered if there is anything on his desk, right now ... That reminds him of me.
Sunday kisses,
The Tart
; *
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