The Perfect Day

I sat watching her today; as she spoke about her life. She told me in many beautiful words how she has waited to find me and now that she has; how her life’s journey nears its destination. Is it just me or does she actually create magic when she speaks? How does she know exactly which words will warm my heart and set my pulse racing?

“Tell me what you wish your love to do for you” I asked her.

“I wish love to make me feel beautiful even as I wake up every morning and to make me feel cherished as I close my eyes every night. I wish love will give me a reason to smile with fondness as I wait for every tomorrow to come”. How true are her words; how rich with purity and simplicity of thought and desire.

As we walked down the paved path surrounded by lush green trees swaying gently to the gentle winter breeze, my fingers reached out for hers; a moment of uncertainty and then the effervescent touch; the clasping of fingers. Our hands gently locked in; the warmth permeating from my skin to hers and back to mine; how simple and divine can love be; how pervasive.

I confess I did not have such a plan – not today and not in life. I know and my Mask does what I intended to do with her after I had serenaded her. I intended to make her fall in love with me, enamour her and then let the Mask feast on the innocent face. But yet, as I walk down this garden path with her today, nothing seems more perfect. The dilemma to choose the innocent face over the Mask seems redundant as the waves of love sweep over me.

“I have not had a more beautiful day in a long time”

“Neither have I” I said. “You remind me of the young man I once was, so full of inane romantic ideas about how I would spend a day with the woman I would truly love”. The idleness of the day adds such metaphoric beauty to our togetherness, the idle day adding up to a simple life of togetherness, when neither of us will have nowhere else to go and nothing more significant to do other then to be holding hands and smiling together.

How beautiful this day is, how replete with the perfection of life! On days like these I wish to tear the Mask off my face for good, for I have everything that I ever aspire for. Yet, as I aspire to do the unthinkable, I realize that the Mask hides the skeletons of my past beneath it and the moment I tear it off, I will become naked in front of the world and in front of the innocent face. From one dilemma to another, my life which a moment back seemed so perfect swivels back in to the realm of insecurities. How does a face, who once wore a Mask, ever reveal its true self to the world again? How does the truth prevail again?