“You seem to like nothings,” you once said to me.
In a world where everyone – even in their sleep – is busy, yes I do like nothings.
In a world where every endeavor is a task, even being human, yes I do like nothings.
But the nothing I look forward to the most is the one that comes after a really long day.
The few moments of stillness in nothingness I get to share with you.
We would lie in bed; our bodies entangled comfortably, doing nothing. We would not even say a word for a while. We would bask in each other’s energy. We would look into each other’s eyes. We would exchange breaths, sometimes even smiles. We would hold each other for what felt like eternity in the few minutes that we had. I would consciously watch how your chest rises and falls with every breath you take. I would watch how your eyes observe the goings-on in the little space that we occupy. I would feel you and your warmth and then recklessly, and with all abandon, fall into you.
And this is how I know I like nothings.
Because with you, nothings aren’t really nothings.
Even time is an infidel to its pace when I’m with you, inconsistently fast and sporadically slow.
If nothings mean I get to spend a few hours of the day watching you sleep, if it means a few moments of tranquility amidst the chaos that is our every day, if it means our hands clasped together on a quiet night’s drive, then yes I do like nothings.
I will continue to like the stillness, the calm, the quiet.
Whatever time of the day.