I think part of me has always been in love with her.
I wasn't aware of it until I allowed myself to stop hating her.
At first she came off as a bother. A pest, almost. She moved with such ease as she worked – fluid, smooth swings with the hoe. She planted seeds like a dance, twirling and sprinkling seeds about her and covering them in tidy mounds of dirt. She moved with more grace and with more finesse than a beginner had any right to.
I was almost annoyed to see those perky green sprouts grow. Perhaps it was because I lacked the same power in my own movements, the same zeal for what I did. I was lucky to get through basic chores without wheezing. Seeing her move like that…
Well, maybe I was just jealous.
Her ponytail bounded as she walked. She had hope for the future and energy to spare. Her eyes smiled, and her laughter was unapologetic. I didn't dare tell Vesta that her vegetables tasted better than ours. There was something special about her that I could never quite place my finger on – it was as if there was a magic about her.
I think I came a little closer to her secret as the heavens opened above us, letting out a torrential rain. Grasping my hand, shrieking and laughing, she jogged with me to the barn, splashing through new puddles as we hurried along. In that moment, my lungs didn't hurt at all. I felt light, happy, free. She smiled at me and it was then that I realized my own cheeks hurt from doing the same.
Even with dripping hair plastered to her face she was beautiful. It was then that everything clicked together for me.
She was unabashedly in love with life and made no attempt to hide it.
I wished I could do the same. I longed to be able to give love freely without fear, to live each day as if life were a fantastical dream…
She pulled me from my thoughts as her lips crashed against mine. My world spun as I tasted her tongue, her mouth, her kiss. Her clammy hands rested on my shoulders and I forgot that I was alone. I forgot the warnings the doctor had told me. I forgot that I had unhappily confined myself to live a life of restraint – always wishing, always hoping for something that I could neither reach nor identify.
As my grip tightened around her waist, I wondered if perhaps she was the one I had been seeking all along.
A new way of thinking. A new way of living. An abandonment of fear and a hope for what tomorrow will bring.
I see it in our child's eyes. That same light that scares away all of my doubt and reminds me that sometimes it is okay to smile.
She has always bounded ahead, greeting the future with a smile, and the more time I've spent with her, the more I've noticed I don't have to fight to keep up with her anymore.
Perhaps I've grown a bit in my own way.