Smoke

One of my favorite memories from my time in Italy was the distilled veil of incense that wraps around you when you enter a basilica. The sweet smoke a curtain that envelops you, beckoning you to breathe in the sweet perfume and linger. I would imagine that every wisp was a prayer, the curl of the flame from the candles the memory of a votum uttered in urgency.

New people enter your life every day. Most of them are forgettable; a wisp of smoke drifting in a cavernous room. Every once in a while you meet someone who makes you stand still. You find yourself looking forward, not back. Before long you forget they were ever a stranger. They install themselves quietly in your life. You relax and breathe deeply, you linger and get to know them. With a jolt you realize they’ve become a fixture in your day and you would have a pain in your side if they were removed.

I recently told someone I loved them. I admitted what I felt because I had that jolt of realization that my life would be less rich without them in it. That I am happy to stand still and breathe deeply. While I feel the urge to clasp them to my side I know that’s not right. You don’t love people to keep them in your life, you love them because they’ve made your life better, for whatever reason. This person makes me laugh. I’m funny and wild and ridiculous, I experience the profound and the profane when I’m with him.

Love is a fluid thing, it ebbs and flows and one day this person may drift away, leaving only a memory of their perfume behind. I’m okay with that. I accept that right now, they make me feel this way. I have no expectations or demands.