Hey guys, I was just feeling especially mushy today so I wrote this fluff filled piece. Hope you like it -M
I love Chloe Elizabeth Beale. Actually I'm convinced that if anyone were to meet her they'd love her as well. I don't think there is anyone on this planet who couldn't love Chloe Beale. There's just something about her. People are drawn to her. I feel as though I should check to make sure she's not magnetic. I think most people just except the fact that that's just how Chloe is. I like to find reasons. Every day I notice something beautiful about her. So just in case you haven't met Chloe, in this case move out of your rock, I'm going to enlighten you.
Chloe's eyes are breath taking. I know everyone has noticed her eyes before. It's hard not too. But I like them for a reason far less cosmetic. See I get lost in my head quite often. Thinking thoughts that get me worked up and stressed out. But with one look from those eyes, I'm cured.
When I was little my family would travel every summer to my grandmother's house on the coast. My cousin's would surf, play games or sun bathe. Instead of joining in on the fun I'd find a secluded place and just lay in the sand. I'd lay in the sand and listen to the ocean gentle kiss the shore line. It was the only time, other than making music, where I felt completely at peace. At night when I couldn't sleep I'd walk the damp shore line. My feet would sink into the wet earth, the cool water coating my bare feet. When I was out alone on that beach I could breathe. I'd feel the crisp air fill my lungs and It would feel like a weight was lifted. Like every negative thought every worry was wiped away.
That's how I feel when I look into her eyes. I'm at the beach again. I have my feet ankle deep in the cold Atlantic tides and I'm at peace.
Her smile, whether it is full blown or a small smirk, it always fills me with warmth. I feel sometimes she's trying to some up just how much an action means to her in one action. She has countless smiles. They are ever changing. One she has everyone morning when she gets her first sip of coffee. That one is her smile of relief. I tell her every day she has an addiction and but every time she just shrugs. My favorite smile of her is one when she is caught by surprise. Like when someone takes the time out their day to do something special for her. It seems that in that smile she is trying to tell you just how much that one action meant to her.
She has several scars; one is a small half crescent on her forehead another is about six inches long just below her left shoulder blade and The one on her forehead she got from an accident when she was a child. The one on her shoulder she got from something different entirely. When Chloe was ten years old there was a fire in her house. Both of her parents where working late so she was watching her little sister. Money was tight so they could afford a baby sitter. Chloe smelt the smoke and followed the dark puffs of air to their pantry room in the kitchen. Later they found out it had been faulty wiring. Chloe ran to the phone and called 911. Her mom had told her if something like this were to ever happen that she'd need to tell them to send a fire truck to their address and get her and her sister out of the house and to wait for the firemen in the street. After she made the call she ran upstairs to get her sister. Her sister commanded that they get her hamster in the basement before leaving, so Chloe made a compromise. She told her sister to wait on the side walk and if she did that she would go get her hamster. Her little sister did as she was told and Chloe made her way down stairs. She was running down the old wooden steps but it was getting harder to see because of the smoke filling the air. Chloe slipped on the last step she fell and caught her back on a nail sticking out of a floor board. It didn't even faze her though. She grabbed the cage and ran out of the house. When the ambulance and firemen arrived they examined Chloe's back and gave her stiches right there. Her house, her sister and mr. fluffers their hamster were saved.
I find absent mindedly running my fingers over her scars. I think if she didn't have them people would think she was an angel. Sometime I'll find her getting self-conscious. She'll wear a cardigan over a bikini on a hot day or she'll put foundation on even though her skin is flawless. These days I'm always dumbfounded. How can someone so beautiful see anything less than just that when looking into the mirror?
Her other scars are barely noticeable. Now all that is left are white marks on her tan skin. But these scars tell a story of strength not of accident. I kiss these scars. These scars are on her wrists. They don't serve as a reminder of weakness or sadness but as a reminder of how strong she is. How she fought tooth and nail against darkness many have succumbed to. These scars show that she was meant for something greater than sadness. That she was meant to carry on and be the amazing woman that I see today.
I love her hands. When her hands slip effortlessly into mine; it's like two pieces of a puzzle. It's almost silly how much joy I get from this simple action. I feel like her placing her hand in mine says more than any statement ever could. This effortless gesture takes away all of my insecurities in one sweep. This woman, this woman who undoubtedly could be with anyone in this whole world chose to me. Me with all my baggage, me with all my issues, me the one who didn't have one friend through high school; me the social outcast, the alternative to no one's choice. She chose me.
I love her touches they come in all forms: Her "I haven't seen you like all day" hug. Which normally involves her running at me in great speed then basically tackling me to the ground her "I missed you" hug. This one is gentle and soft with just the right amount of pressure, which makes me heart flutter and eyes close. Her "I'm here" hand placement on my lower back, which is normally used when Aubrey is yelling at me or I'm out of my comfort zone. Her "what cha doing" hug, which comes out when I'm working on one of my mixes. She'll come up behind me and wrap her arms gently around me and nuzzle her face into my neck.
I love her scent. I swear she doesn't wear perfume. I've never seen any at her place, but yet she always smells amazing. It's hard to describe. Sometimes different aspects of it are easier to decipher. Sometimes she smells of cherries. Other times she smells like honeysuckle. The smell she leaves on the pillow. The smell that invades my senses when she is near; the only thing that can describe it is that it's just simply Chloe.
Her kisses. I swear she contains nicotine because I honestly can't ever get enough of her. Her innocent pecks. Her passionate kisses that leave my gasping for air. I can literally feel how much she loves me through all her touches and kisses.
Everything about her is breathtaking. Everything about her is beautiful. I don't know if there is a God or a maker or whatever you want to call it out there. But I know she was not an accident. She was not just some cosmic explosion. She was handmade. She is living proof that there is good in this world. She is a light that can't be put out even in the darkest sky. She is a warm that heats the coldest of nights. She is a love that heals all pain. She is Chloe Elizabeth Beale and I wouldn't want her to be any other way.