Together, we are stronger… the Jaguar returns
A short microfiction on love meets inspiration.
Be with me,
you know you
want to
be with me,
as I do you
The year is quickly drawing to an end once more. I should not be surprised since I have arrived at a realization about the nature of our understanding and perceptions of time. A friend tells me that time stops when friends drop by. Similarly, I have discovered for myself that time does indeed appear to pause with love(d) ones, doing things we love, engaging in novel activities and travels, as if we frame our memories with time.
I will always remember full moon nights. Last Friday evening, I went to get a glass of water, and when I looked out of the kitchen window, I saw my neighbour Joáo dancing under the full moon. Or was he…? I rubbed my bleary, sleepy eyes again and tilted the window panes for a wider angle to recoil with shock when Joáo’s dark eyes met mine.
My neighbour Joáo is a taekwondo junkie. He recently won two sparring matches at a big club-level competition and has been parading his medals to anyone who would stop by to listen to his story when he takes out the trash bins in the glow of late afternoons, and the sun has dipped beneath the trees with the soft dusky light left lingering in the air. It has only been four days since his last spar. He is conscientiously readying himself for the training class, meticulously rinsing his equipment, hanging them in the sun, and packing his gym bag. I notice his timely routine because I often find myself watching.
On my morning rounds, the afternoon dip in the pool and the evening trash bin hour are general domestic patterns on this suburban street. Indeed, in almost every household, daily chores tend to revolve around time. When it is time for my afternoon dip in the pool, for example, I see Joáo hanging his gear in the sun with his muscular back to me. I admire the rippling along his shoulders as he bends, then straightens to reach for the clothesline.
My mobile rings. I jump. Joáo cocks his head to one side. Embarrassed, I call out, ‘that’s ok, it’s mine!’ flapping my hand as if to brush away impertinent flies. Joáo grins and waves, pretending he heard nothing, or perhaps he really did not hear me, as I stare at him, pointing to the AirPods in his ears. I smile and wave, my stomach sank with a small measure of faint relief. He did not hear me.
Last Friday evening was a full moon night. The trash bin ordeal was over, and the few who hung around for Joáo’s closing touches on his fight with Tennessee, his taekwondo arch-rival. He tells his onlookers and fans (like Evie and me) his mantra that we are stronger together. The skies were clear that evening, and if you peered out, you’d see the pool infused with soft ethereal white glows. Evie was by then fast asleep following our hectic shopping day for Christmas presents.
I reached to angle the pane wider so I can see better. His eyes met mine. In my head, I hear a voice as if he was whispering right down my ear, sending warm chills tingling my nape. I break away from his gaze and reach for my laptop on the kitchen counter. I write…
Be with me
you know you
want to
be with me
as I do you.
