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On rare and unconventional moment of clarity, or stupidity, one should try to actually write what one thinks. Baring soul is no easy feat. But a leap of faith should be taken, on occasion. If anything, so that one could finally sleep at night. And if one should be so lucky, a rather rare phenomenon of echoing may occur unexpectedly and serendipitously, by the reader of the note.
Upon hearing the echo on the other end, one may even wonder - "Is this how they ought to sound aloud?" Those three soundless words on a piece of paper all of sudden came alive, wrap one around like a winter scarf.
Toasty and warm, Calm and enlightened.
So… words are being spoken. Declarations are made. But one should not be easily convinced, because one must try to utter the same words, to give it a swirl, just like a good looking hat, you don't know how it actually fits, until you put it on.
"I.Love.You."
Just like that.
The hat fits snuggly but the price tag is outrageous. She feels depleted after. But when could one ever obtain such an unusual hat? It’s a once a life time acquisition.
One hears another echo, "I love you baby."
One tries again. "I love you."
This time, it sounded more natural, not a murmuring, but three separate words, clear and purposeful.
Then the echo, "I love you."
One attempts the third and final try, just to be sure. This time, the trained ears hear them right. It was indeed those three words.
One finally concludes. "This is how they sound. Those three magic words."
Words are magical, because they carry an echo.
One has to be patient. Words spoken too soon will crash and burn. Words spoken too late will reduce one’s life into regrets and sorrow.
Words must be spoken, at the right time.
Like anything in life, timing, must be perfect to feel right.
Just like that, those plain three words, written, erased, and rewritten, used and abused often, have turned into a commitment.
And it shall go on, until the end of the day.
One never cares about how it starts. One looks forward, until the end of the day, until the last sun set, the last sail, the last breath, the last time one’s hand is holding the other.
She takes out all the cash one has, put it on the counter.
“It’s a lovely hat. It fits you perfectly. You look great in pink.” The sales lady is all smiles.
“Indeed, the hat is splendid. I had never worn pink before.” She smiles back. There is no return policy.
But on occasion, splurging is good. After all, a pink hat that fits, so exquisitely, does not come often in her life.
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