You Can Have My Soul

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It’s yours, he said. It was Christmas night and we were a bit drunk and it was late. I told him it wouldn’t be like that. I told him to close his eyes. Imagine a small child out in a huge sunny field. The child is blowing big soapy bubbles into a cloudless sky. There are so many bubbles floating out there, thousands, maybe more. Out of all of them just two touch for the slightest second. And that’s it right there. It would be like that. We would still be whole, taking nothing from each other but connected for always, climbing higher and higher into the sky.

I got up. Where are you going? he asked, reaching for me while I reached for my phone. I need to write that down, I said, before I forget it. He told me I didn’t need to and pulled me back to him. He told me he’d remember it for the rest of his life.

My car windows are broken. They’re stuck down. It’s been raining like hell so I’ve been driving around with trash bags on my seats and they flap in the wind on the highway and hit our heads and it makes us all laugh and laugh. Sometimes I wonder if I can hold onto this kind of happiness, how long it can possibly last. I have the urge to keep it somewhere safe for another time, should I ever be unhappy again.

He asked if people are ever reluctant to get close to me because I leave all the time. I said yes. I said no. I said I don’t leave all the time. I said I’d stay if I had a reason to. I said I spent so much of the last decade thinking about where to go next. I said I don’t do that so much anymore. I think I’ve finally caught up with myself.

If there were a soundtrack to all this, it would be the You Tube version of Stevie Nicks backstage singing Wild Heart while getting her makeup done.

Someone told me the other day she believes our soul chooses its form in the spiritual realm. We choose the human experience we need, the experience vital to our awakening. I like this idea. We talked about death too. I said I’m okay with dying. I could die right now. My struggle is living in a world playing pretend. Pretending we’ll live forever.

The bubbles will burst, I said. We might have already fallen asleep. I may have dreamt the next bit. I may have said in an infinite eternity we will be nothing more than a beautiful moment in a sunny sky. 

Jennifer ChardonComment