Camomile tea with the school teacher
December 30, 2012
She knows I need to return back into the meeting. I just nipped out for a quick brunch with her. She is wearing the orange dress I bought for her last evening. The suffused light from the skylight extenuates the shadows of her long legs making them run forever on the plush carpet. I half ignore her and tell her, I’ll make it up to her tonight by taking her somewhere exciting. She complains that I don’t spent enough time with her. She even tells me, if it’s going to be like this all the time, she might decide not to follow me for business trips any longer. I know she is lying.
I look on and listen to her as I sip my tea and scan the WSJ. The school teacher looks at the honey along with her camomile. She reaches slowly for my hand, spreads my palm like a leaf ever so gently. Looks at me warmly before pouring honey into my hand. It feels warm like a glove. I don’t stop her. I know she is trying to do something that she considers important. Necessary. Essential to her being. Most people choose not to understand this idea, but I understand it.
This thing that propels her to think the things she thinks. To even do the things she does. Cannot be denied – as it is a primal dark force that drives her deep within. A force that would often swell in her heart for no rhyme or reason like a fluttering flag crying to be torn to shreds by the scolding wind. A force that marked her out as different from other girls during the moment of her youth. A force that at times even turned her into someone who she didn’t even know herself – a dark force that was apart of her yet so much part of her like darkness and light. I looked at her and I realized my eyes were reflected in hers.
I understand. I understand completely.
She begins to lick the honey sensually while she looking at me all the time, licking every single drop of it, right down to the very tips of my fingers.
As I looked on. I wondered to myself…yes…perhaps, this is her way to stop time. To hold it so very still, till it no longer creeps forward like flowing amber encapsulating an ant for eternity. I found myself wondering, is it really possible? For he to stop time.
It was then that I noticed the world had suddenly stopped completely. Yes imagine everything just grinding to an abrupt stop. Every thing. No sound. No blur of shadows. No flashing colors. No reams of click flacks. Just silence that is so….silent. Every person. Even the clouds all pinned like dead butterflies in a picture frame that reflected in her eyes. Then as soon as it happened, the world rush back again like a torrent of sights and sounds.
I continued looking at the school teacher for so very long time as she slowly stretched herself out in this strange mysterious space where she buried her face and hair into my hands. And then I realize nothing else exist any longer, except this one moment in time and space. Yes, she has done the impossible it seems, stopped even time completely….not every woman can do what the school teacher can do.
When a woman is with the man who she loves with all her heart. Nothing is impossible. And everything suddenly becomes possible.
Yes, time has truly stopped.