Lover Girl Era
If there was a time I felt alive, it is now. An urge so persistent to move halfway across the world and live near sprawling fields of grass. I won’t roll around it though, the idea of being in contact with the grass itself makes me feel itchy. Yet, I’ll still enjoy the views and the cool breeze on my face.
I picture being free like Maria in The Sound of Music, running through meadows and singing at the top of my lungs. Having a little cove where I can write and read for hours on end. Time in this space is a societal construct, day and night are inconsequential. In my little heaven, it’s just me, myself and I, a whole library at my disposal and the greatest tunes known to man.
Maybe in this paradise, there’s a lover, my partner and my best friend rolled into one person. Cute picnics by the river, listening to some Billy Black as he sings about love, life and spirituality. Taking in the sights and sounds without a million little things running through our minds. Being present and feeling is an almost extinct art.
Slow days, brunch at 11 am as we groove to Njoki Karu as she tells us not to lose hope as dawn is coming. Trips to the market turn into excursions. Creating a space that feels like a warm embrace when you need it the most. Happiness doesn’t need to feel like it’s being served in small doses. I don’t feel like I am in survival mode and my heart’s soaring.
I could write songs. Perform poetry. I can sing and dance. I am in love. A love so deep and wide covering grounds that were so bare and dry. Looking into the mirror, I see life, beauty, glorious blinding beauty staring back at me. The more I pour into myself, watering and weeding my soul consistently, the more I am aligned with what feeds me. Finding my people, quiet souls but ignited in spaces where they find comfort.
In the words of a song I don’t remember the artist’s name, ‘Life is what you make it, it’s how you take it. Be still and you will see.’ I choose to enter into my lover-girl era, to love and be proud. Life’s good on this side my lovelies.
