There is something about the moment before falling asleep that lends itself not to the dreams that will be dreamt throughout the night, but to the soft lull of magic that happens before the actual falling into slumber. It's that moment where you are still aware that you are actively thinking, but are also relaxed enough to simply let your mind wander into whatever crevice it sees fit. Tonight, I should be sleeping because I know in four hours I will be watching a very active baby, and that takes energy. But instead, that lull was intensified by looping the song 'Marry Me' on my iTunes. The raw honesty of these lyrics led my mind to wander into the crevice of new beginnings and the chance encounters that precipitate them. I have had my fair share of amazing moments, both in and out of love, but I have to admit that I somehow continue to daydream about the beginning of a love story. Not mine necessarily, but just a beginning in general.
Granted, there is nothing more wonderful to the reality of being in love. But there is something so absolutely perfect in that first flitter of emotions, in those first stumbled words, in the heat that you can feel in your cheeks as your whole self turns a bit crimson and your laugh begins sounding a bit nervous and your words start tumbling out of your mouth at such a speed that you aren't sure the last four words even needed to be added to that sentence because you're absolutely sure it didn't make sense. The perfection lies within all of these imperfections. You know what I'm talking about, we've all had those moments. They may last a finite minute, but somehow that minute will be the story you tell infinitely. It's that moment that you revisit a hundred more times in that next hour and more than that as you tell your closest girlfriend. You find yourself telling the story to even more people because you so desperately want to go back to that encounter just to feel that ALIVE again. You relish the intensity, and perhaps even the awkwardness, of that moment because you LIVED every second of it. And I mean really really lived it. You were acutely aware of how your legs were crossed and where that piece of hair kept falling in your eyes, and even that split second where the knuckle of his pinky finger just happened to ever so slightly graze your hand. And you knew the second that he looked over at you, or maybe it was the double-take that he did, that he - could he? is it possible? just maybe? - felt that spark, too.
And in that brief moment where you feel that magic for the first time, you somehow begin to build the story in your head. You see not only that brief encounter, but you start seeing your first date. You can almost hear that phone ring with his anxious voice as unsteady as your laugh. You start picturing just how your dad would greet him the first time and how your mom might gush about him after dinner. You let your mind go to a place where a chance meeting becomes your first kiss, your first date, your first picnic in the park, your first proposal, your future husband.
And then you pull yourself back together, shyly smile as you become aware of the fact that he is still in front of you, smiling and asking for your number. You recite those ten digits (because who really ever has the same area code any more) while silently shuffling through your mental rolodex of smooth ways to end this moment just in case he needs reassurance of how spontaneously charming you are. And then, as the moment ends, you do the last thing in the world you want to do... you walk away. And you wait, hoping that he felt it, too.
As I fall asleep tonight, I will be praying for that magical beginning for someone. Hoping that tomorrow, my phone rings and it's her on the other line saying, "Candidas, I think I found him."
... a beautiful picture of who could be the next girl in the cafe ...
Sleep sweet, Dear Reader.
~*~ Candidly Candidas ~*~