Home > Dating, Faith, Turned > The Amount Of Time – Turned

The Amount Of Time – Turned

It’s mainly about grasping the gift.

Before I even turn the knob and open the door inward, before I pull the key out of the lock I have a smile that tightens my face. Stepping in I take note of the pugnent apple and cinnamon candle scent that remains still alive, drifting lazily throughout the apartment. She had brought it over with a red bow tied around its girth and placed it center on the table and lit it right away. Tonight there was a note leaning against it, a folded sheet of expensive parchment that when spread open announced “This weekend can’t come soon enough”.

The warm, illuminating lamp light revealed the scores of changes, many of them subtle, that she has made since we’ve been dating. Irregularly spaced framed photographs have been replaced or rehung in new locations in order to mix tastefully along with new artful prints, and a newly installed corner shelf holds an African Violet that she had saved, newly budded with red points and a tender, new ivy plant, its vines full and cascading. Bright and boldly ornate contemporary throw pillows have been strategically placed on the sofa, love seat and chair giving them a new look and a quick glance make them appear not my own.

The windows are graced with thin, white horizontal poles, newly installed also, upon which hang differing lengths of shepards canes that hold plants of all colors – some I had never seen before, a new rug centered and fixed attention to the living room with its red and light brown pattern and a green wire room divider had been chosen for the wide space of white, near the door, and had a leaf pattern that now hold additional hanging pictures, in framed lockets, of my children.

It had taken some getting used to, the orderly yet comfortable ambiance that had taken hold here. The new and inexpensive backsplash gazing from the stove, the countertop that was converted from a catch-all to a colorful and functional area of culinary inspiration, the bed was given additional height by the twelve inch posts put under each of its four corners, the shiny and satiny feel of six hundred thread sheets made me feel more comfortable with the fact that they were a shade of deep, heart red, and the wide-eyed astonishment that I first had as she laced and looped the multiple tails of a vividly adorned kite (of all things imaginable) between drop-ceiling tiles, was replaced with excitement and contentment at being led out of my stulted knowledge of decor as she tied tiny strings to the body, which let it hang and float just inches from their anchor.

The note, still held in hand, had a post script. It said “Turn on the TV and play the video”. I noticed that the disk player was open and a disk placed into it was labeled in black marker “Play Me”. I sat on the couch, the middle cushion, the one with the most comforting give to my frame, and with the remote control, pressed ‘Play’. She had turned the recorder to herself and I could tell from what she wore that it was recorded the night before. I could hear water sizzling in the background and knew that it was recorded while I was in the shower. She was giggling as she spoke.

“I want to tell you that I am so happy that we’ve met. I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I’ve laughed so hard and for that alone, I thank you. I find myself thinking about you all the time now – at work and at home. I guess that I simply want to tell you how much you mean to me and that I’m glad that we have each other. And I’m looking forward to seeing you this weekend. Bye!”

It’s not that he was grateful that someone had come into his life. He wasn’t grateful at all that someone had come into his life. Others had come into his life before.

He was relieved that it was her that had come into his life. The only one that had found the key to unleash unbridled, freeing and gushing passion. The warm palm that fit exquisitely within his own, the eyes that danced with celebration, the embrace that nullified time and the cojoined hearts that beat the same strong and determined rhythm.

He clutched the feeling as he lay between the clean, cool, red sheets and closed his eyes, engulfed within the blazing panorama of love.

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  1. 03/28/2011 at 4:32 AM

    This started in the first person and ended in the third person … on purpose perhaps? A hint at a dream or a look in to reality? I really really love your writing style.

    • 03/28/2011 at 11:59 AM

      Thank you msbrookie – you are too kind. I tried, not very well at that, to make a scene that was the opposite of the scene before. A scene that expressed the way the moments could be in a perfect world as I entered the apartment rather than the way they happen to be now.

      I used the same title as the last post but added ‘turned’ to signify how different it was. I could use a suggestion for a better word or phrase to show that a story is the indeed the opposite, and I’m open to anyone suggesting an alternate word.

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