Joie de vivre

Her hand instantly gets bashful as she attempts to hold her pen (her grandmother’s lucky pen- and all she has left of her). It’s an absolute uncontrollable innate feeling within her soul, this passion for writing. Time and over again, she has tried to fool herself to believe it has vanished- to no avail-it always makes a comeback and proves her erroneous. She’s been fond of writing forever and a day…so secretly, so silently – (her grandmother always knew it- she misses her everyday and can still picture her reading Baudelaire aloud by the fire in the living room downstairs).

She’s grown older- writing about him still tops her interest list, in spite of the years that are elapsing so swiftly. She wonders if she looks older – she thinks he does, but then again- maybe not quite really. She remains thankful to have been there to witness this incremental transformation in his features. He was a lighthearted foolish  boy when she first tripped for his obsession with violins, collecting stamps and brown-banded cockroaches- he now is the man (but then again still the boy) she has been fond of all of her life, still so secretly and silently-  just like she has been fond of her writings. There is this never- ending link between him and those manuscripts of hers.  He’s been her muse, her sculpture- the masterpiece of her finger tips and oh, the words: he effortlessly makes them flow – never ceasing to make her heart  pour contradicting assorted emotions exclusively sensed for him (regardless of how dashing he was, he did find his joie-de-vivre in befriending what she dreaded most- cockroaches that is).

“It’s peculiar indeed -she thinks to herself-  how he’s been floating in my mind throughout my aging years ” Truth is she doesn’t mind his cockroaches anymore- as a matter of fact, they might just be starting to grow on her- yes, absolutely. Oh what insane manias a woman can do/ think/ tolerate- for the sake of love. She is ceaselessly youthful when she writes about him – or think about him, the (not so) modest moments she thinks af him still- her distinctive piece of art & astounding marvel..


About monakaraoui

Editor by day, journal blogger by night.. View all posts by monakaraoui

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