“Oh do you need me to move honey?”
That moment felt so real. His eyes were smiling at me when he called me honey. In a matter of minutes I had moved from friend to honey. Not knowing how to answer, I turned away from his luminous gaze and shifted to make space for people I was sure were my FRIENDS.
An hour into that moment I realised he was only being sweet and playful. If only I could explain that to my hormones which were having a rager. I wasn’t upset with him for doing that, for setting off alarms that would take hours to silence. I wasn’t upset because I realised that I too did that every now and then. I too find myself having blurted out the words “babe” or “honey” to the opposite sex. I’ve never thought ill of it until it was done to me. I was tugged without cause. I was forced into a real moment then later told it wasn’t real.
I walked out of that lunch break wishing for all sorts of things. One simple word changed the way I looked at him, the way I spoke to him. It was weird. It was all still the same but all so different. With much hesitation, I decided to pull myself towards myself and live in the reality that is our friendship; nothing more and nothing less. I struggled to maintain this decision, mostly because my mind had already drawn up a perfect picture of what wasn’t but could be. Feeling rather pathetic I stuck my head in a stack of work and tried not to look back but even that was difficult. Sometimes I think my eyes control me more than I control them. You know how you look away from something either disgusting or distasteful but always seem to take a few peaks as if to ensure truth. So I kept looking back, figuratively, at what had just happened.
After unmentionable seconds I came to a place of realisation. There aren’t a lot of people that see me and I don’t mean see with the natural eye. I mean beyond the natural eye. Not many people see beyond what they see when they look at me and so when someone does see me, my background song changes. It is a feeling that I struggle to put in words. It’s like when you bump your funny bone; you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. It’s like (and only women will get this) taking off your tummy tuck tights after a full day of being tucked. Being seen is an art. It’s abstract in a literal way. So when I’m seen, when someone takes the time to actually squint their eyes and try to focus in, when they look at the sky and I happen to be the star they fix their eyes on, I naturally feel the need to love. I feel the need to open up and give all the love I have.
It took a very long time for me to see myself. It took even longer to notice that God sees me. There is a level of vulnerability that comes with being seen. It’s almost as though you’re standing naked; so uncovered that nothing you say or do comes as a surprise. I don’t want to lie, it is one of the most beautiful and poignant moments that life has to offer. So beautiful that it makes the world around you more colourful. It tattoos a smile on your face. It makes the butterflies that so often float around your tummy feel like eagles.
So instead of allowing myself to have these waterfall/spring water like moments, I think I’m choosing to veil myself until the one who is supposed to see me sees me. I pray that I have enough wisdom and discernment to know when he comes along. Being compared to something as celestial as the sun is amazing but it sucks when it comes from those that hover in the space of not yet.