Azim left for Moscow earlier and now I'm alone. I love my time alone but I love him more so I'm missing him now. He fell asleep on his couch in his apartment while watching MTV yesterday and I watched him sleep....
I love watching him sleep. I would stare at his stubble as his facial muscles relax as deep slumber takes over. I would curl my finger around one stray lock of his curly hair. I would gaze at his belly, heaving heavily as he takes his deep breaths of sleep. And waves of unconditional love would pour out of me like a flashflood of feelings. Because each stubble, each curl and each breath holds my future. A promised land where I know I will be loved and I will love back and all other dreams become possibilites because I have the fuel to believe in myself because I am worthy of love. And when each stubble holds a wrinkle, when each curl turns grey and when each breath is breathless as age takes its toll, I know I will love him still, as much, if not more, as I love him now. When I was learning about love years ago as I hit puberty, I didn't think love would encapsulate itself in questionable forms of unshaven stubble, messy curls and heaving bellies with sleepy breaths. I realize now that love is a clever little shapeshifter that found me and moulded itself to fit me, when I did not force it, did not search for it nor did I conjure up fairy-tale images of it.
A friend, Trina, asked me why I am feeling maternal suddenly. Maybe it's the fever now. Maybe it's because I was getting my period and hormones went crazy. Or maybe it's just because as a woman falls deeper and deeper in love with someone, all she wants to do is have his children.
Honey, come home quick....