Silent Music

When I think of us, and I know this is weird, but, I hear music. When I picture us together, there is this soundtrack that goes along with that picture. The significance of this, I believe, is that there is a soul to the very existence of you and I together.

Before I go any further, if you are reading this, please understand that sometimes I fluff up my blog posts to correspond with the whole wordscapturingthemoments.blogspot.com theme. So, if you're like, "Woah, this girl is crazy," then fear not, for I am perfectly normal. I just like to use sappy words and colorful language. But in all honesty, you definitely are something special. Don't get freaked out by that. Please.

Blink 182 exudes an individuality that is parallel to our personalities and belief that we are who we are and can be anything. At least, that's the sense I get from you.

Van Morrison, although we haven't listened to him together, defines the ease of us being together. It's the music of the mornings with you. And for some reason, I see us making pancakes together and dancing around the kitchen to "More Than a Feeling" by Bon Iver. And not to be too cliche, but I also hear "Happy Together" by The Turtles. That's just a fun-loving song. I mean, c'mon.

There is a particular music for waking up next to you, with your arms wrapped around me. One song that comes to mind is "Closing Time" by Semisonic.

But before the morning comes—before we drift off into separate worlds—there is a different song that lulls me to sleep, urging me to dream of you. Sitting on your roof, staring up at the stars, I hear "Hear You Me" by Jimmy Eat World. I'm sitting in front of you with your arms wrapped around me. You rock me back and forth to a rhythm neither of us need ears to hear. Your hands find mine and hold them tightly to tell me you won't let go. Our breathing slows and synchronizes to our imaginary music. The bridge comes. You whisper something in my ear and then the chorus erupts and your lips are against mine as a drop of water falls from above and lands softly on a cheek. And there we sit in the cold air of the night filled with silent music.

And So It Goes

I'll try my best.

I should've known better. I should've put two and two together and got forever. Okay, not forever. I'm just being melodramatic. But the truth is, I shouldn't have sabotaged my own happiness. Is it the human condition? No, I think it's just my crappy condition. It'll work out, though. Won't it? It always seems to. And if it doesn't, then what? Then, whatever. The Lord may have giveth you, but I hath pusheth away. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Who knew that by getting closer you can push someone so far away?

How much do I invest?

Well, I think I invested a little too much and the market crashed. Or, at least, is in a recession.

Hesitation

How untimely. How perfectly imperfect that I meet such a person as he. And while I act indifferently towards the future, beneath my confident and rational facade, I'm just as unsure about this as I am about the greatest perplexities of mankind. His call to acknowledge reality is resoundingly mature and perhaps too unpalatable for my naiveté. I still insist that I have erupted from that adolescent perception of love that made me once a fool, but I fear a regression. I fear a change too irreversible for a love with no antidote.

A Grand Generation

My grandmother just passed away. She was 92 years old. Her name was Philomena Vuozzo. Her health had been fluctuating for the past year. She fought hard. In fact, the last time my family visited her at the nursing home, she had seemed to recover from a recent condition.

Only a couple of weeks ago, she was suffering from an unknown problem that made her very sleepy. She was unable to stay awake and it seemed as though she wouldn't be able to pull through; but she did. Then, today, for some strange reason—a riddle as old as time itself—she went to Heaven.

Maybe she missed Grandpa. Now she is an angel; at least, an angel in a different place, a better place. She is sitting next to Grandpa, hand in hand, making her friends laugh while God makes us cry. Yet, we are lucky; for her own laughter forever echoes in our hearts and her smile is stamped on our souls.

And now, four beautiful souls that touched my life like no others are together in Heaven. They are the grand generation, in every sense of the word.

I love you, Grandpa and Grandma Stevenson. I love you, Grandpa and Grandma Vuozzo. I love you. I love you. I love you. Ti amo.