L🧡ve At First Sight

An emotion of pure innocence!

Photo by Jez Timms on Unsplash

The teacher played ‘Una Paloma Blanca', and as the music picked up notes, a flood of emotions waved high-up in the sky, screaming and touching heights of immeasurable joy.

An innocent thrill and the continuous pattering of little feet took over the whole kindergarten with colorful ribbons and tangled rings. It was a free-flowing festival, smiling from every corner of the classroom. Here, timid buttocks fondly swayed their dancing moves while mischievous ones clapped hello to one another. They laughed and lurked. Some hopped and hooted.

It’s a joy of being alive, a joy that sees no baggage of experiences, it’s the joy of building unconditional connections and cherishing moments. A joy that has no responsibilities, efforts, or questions.

They say love is innocent; I say love is a child untouched by the worldly ways.

These teeny-weeny socks, folded up in tidy/untidy sleeves of big smiles, only slipped down for a millisecond when the clock said STOP. But to rise up again and slay their greedy gums with some teeth within and new ones awaiting to be born.

These differently textured socks will make no complaints, and wearing all they have with a fearless heart will flaunt a full-flown-out tongue at the insecurities of the outside world.

First love is like an innocent child, knows no hurdles, & no heartbreaks. There are no scales to measure its efficacy when you fall with innocence.

Every time the children stopped stomping their feet, they pulled up both their rigor and socks. The entire classroom is now holding hands again, and the recorder couldn’t resist singing.

(When the sun shines on the mountain
And the night is on the run
It’s a new day, and it’s a new way
And I fly up to the sun.)

An echo breathed out, and sparkling chunks of colorful hair bands took an unexpected tour of the whole room. It felt like a full-power Red Bull moment, where small gestures of merrymaking almost touched the top ceiling of the school building.

It’s the first kindergarten classroom for fun activities, such as singing and dancing. It’s also the first time you've viewed things with a more vivid and unshakable memory. It’s that time when you’ve learned how it feels to be swept off your feet—it took you all by surprise. It’s when you feel how your heart beats and which tunes move your hips. It’s when you know how smiles communicate with one another and how faces glow in union.

Soon, the half-bell rings, and you change your clothes. Washing off your face, packing your things with all the items you carried and props you used, tingling and mingling them together, you hear a sound of your success story. What a lovely day at school. I am going to tell all about it to my mom—the rainbows, the ribbons, the bands, the dance—and all the chances we had to get the hustle going.

Photo by Ahmad Odeh on Unsplash

It was then that you felt butterflies fluttering in your system and birds chirping a harmonious song, blood rushing rapidly through your veins & cheeks, making you go all tomatoes and red berries. It’s when the air smells of your playground stage and your tiffin box tastes like yummy chocolates; it’s when your enthusiasm hushes your sweat and the unawakened skin pores breathe openly; it's when your stomach wants to keep dancing, and your appetite is filled with happiness.

You came home collecting beautiful memories of your lovely day. You couldn’t wait to spill the beans. You started speaking all about it, but hey!! where are the pauses, the commas, and the apostrophes?

I say, who cares?

Expression of love doesn’t have to be a perfect fairytale; because love occurs in the most unexpected dramas of all times—in the breaking breath of your words, in the stammering fillers of your voice, in the non-stop talking of your mind. In the sigh of yearning for more, in the urge to remain absorbed in the wait, in the rush of feeling excited for it.

That very day, when we cherished every bit of its emotion—every nook, cranny, inch, scales, depths, heights, and wonders that were happening with us—we saw ourselves drowned in the eyes of it, lost in the hues of cinematic imaginations, felt crazy in the name of it, been culprits in the plays of hiding from it, and then we looked at ourselves in the mirror, and my friends, that very moment, it was

love at first sight.

For more lovey-dovey reads like these, stay tuned to Reaching Hearts — Medium

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