I know it’s corny, but I want to have children just so I can give them this kind of love. The kind that permeates through loneliness—reaches across the oceans and holds you so close and warm it’s impossible to keep from smiling. I want my children, and their children too, to live forever in moments like that. But is that even possible?
All the time. So help me out and don’t give me (irritating) things to think about, ‘cause I generate enough self-distressing topics on my own, already.
The Secret Life of Bees - Sue Monk Kidd
“You know, some things don’t matter that much, Lily. Like the color of a house. How big is that in the overall scheme of life? But lifting a person’s heart—now, that matters. The whole problem with people is—”
“They don’t know what matters and what doesn’t,” I said, filling in her sentence and feeling proud of myself for doing so.
“I was gonna say, The problem is they know what matters, but they don’t choose it. You know how hard that is, Lily? I love May, but it was still so hard to choose Caribbean Pink. The hardest thing on earth is choosing what matters.”
THIS. THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS.
I have to turn off the light and pretend I’m going to sleep. =_= And then always keep one ear open to listen for footsteps so I can get into bed and pretend that I’m asleep. Messed up… But oh well.
Drifting off to sleep, I thought about her. How nobody is perfect. How you just have to close your eyes and breathe out and let the puzzle of the human heart be what it is.
Everyone does. People are amazing - just by the way they exist. I walk to class and I’m ridiculously happy, because people are people, and people do things like hold hands, choose the outfits they wear that day, and keep their feet walking.
You amaze me, you really do. Even if you see nothing in yourself, I see a body and a mind and an existence that totally turns up the corners of my lips and puts a sparkle in my eyes, because you are amazing, because you exist.