MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “love”

Childish excitement

https://www.soester-weihnachtsmarkt.de/uploads/tx_wsflexslider/3_07.jpg

This was her favourite time of year. Not because of the festive holiday season and the magic that spread everywhere, but because she loved the feeling of snuggling up somewhere warm with a hot beverage and good company.

He shared the feeling. Because it reminded him of how wonderful it was to feel like a child again. To be excited with the little things, to play without caring what others thought, and to rekindle his lust for life.

She brought that out in him. She made him happy.

And he made her forget everything that bothered her. He turned her negative obsessions to positive aspirations.

That night of a new moon, he took her hand and led her to a Christmas market. There were jingles in the air, the smell of roasting chestnuts, happy cheers and lots and lots of bright lights.

And in the midst of it all was that magical place.

A carousel.

He helped her onto a plastic almost life-size horse and his eyes sparkled as he saw her smile lighting up her entire face. Her eyes were two diamonds in the night. And he knew he was simply lucky to be there.

It is the people who rekindle that feeling of being a child who are most deserved to be loved by you. Because they remind you of that lost innocence and of that bewilderment at every single thing in life. Witness things as a miracle and you have found happiness.

“Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it” – Roald Dahl

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A single moment on track

©Dawn M. Miller

That autumn day, just when the train was following its tracks under the tunnel into the mountain, with the crispy leaves brushing against the half-open windows, is exactly when she realised her life had changed.

They were playing card games in an almost empty wagon. Their laughter echoed in the wooden cabin. It was the sound of sincere joy.

She was gleaming all over. His eyes reflected her happiness. That innocent pure love of life that belonged to a child. He made her happy.

It was then she realised she was in love. And that would inevitably change her forever.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

The luck of a four-legged friend

©MCD - Tiger2018

©MCD

Everything happens for a reason, they say. Some say it is usually the reason you want to believe they happen.

When you come to think of it though, it’s the smallest of things that make the greatest impact on your life. The simplest of gestures, a few words of kindness, the smallest of beings.

For this latter, it is strange how – if you are an animal lover – your whole being lights up at the mere sight of one. Your mood instantly changes. As if you suddenly realise how trivial everything else is. Like Schopenhauer said: “Compassion for animals is intimately connected with goodness of character; and it may be confidently asserted that he who is cruel to animals cannot be a good man”. In a similar light, Anatole France stated, “until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remain un-awakened”.

The best part of having a pet as a companion, a roommate and a friend is that you will receive twice-fold (or more) the love you offer it. If you are as lucky as to have a four-legged creature in your home and your life, you will know what it is to find joy at the simplest of things, how to relax by merely a pet or a hug, how the warmth of a purr can take away all your stress, and how to love unconditionally.

It is only when that love that taught you about life is lost that you fully comprehend its importance. It is that unbearable void that is left behind upon a pet’s departure that makes you acknowledge how lucky you are to have been a part of their life and to have had the honour to have them choose you as their partner during their brief passage from this earth.

We can judge the heart of a man by his treatment of animals” – Immanuel Kant

Our purpose in life is to help others. And if you can’t help them, at least don’t hurt them” – Dalai Lama

Pets are bundles of love wrapped in fur”

Set in stone

stone-house

©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

It was part of their family heritage ever since her relatives remembered. But she was around to see it refurbished. The stone walls were whitened and reinforced and the interior completely renovated.

As a child, she pretended it was her castle and she was longing for her prince to come riding along on a white stallion.

Over the years, she stopped being so demanding though. He didn’t have to have a horse. And he didn’t have to be royal.

When she saw him approach, she realised that all that mattered was him being a decent person. And to love her.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Cooking temptations

https://usateatsiptrip.files.wordpress.com/2018/03/gettyimages-887636042.jpg?w=1000&h=600&crop=1His father was the one who taught him to be patient and follow instructions. To risk in trying something new. To be creative, inventive and artistic in everything he did. He was the one who taught him how to cook.

His mother was an excellent cook. Her food was finger-licking tasty. But she was the “safe-type”, the one who preferred to follow instructions exactly as they were written with few if any deviations from the recipe. Like all women, she preferred order in her kitchen.

His father, on the other hand, had a mastery for cooking up his own recipes. He usually made a mess out of the kitchen, but prepared something spectacular in the end. He found that if something looked pleasant to the eye, it probably tasted good too. He was the “innovative chef”, the one who didn’t mind trying unprecedented procedures or cooking methods. Who preferred to get burnt and learn than to keep doing the same thing that was passed down to him. He was the one who wanted to have something new to pass on to the next generations.

So when Anton graduated from the top gastronomy school in the world, it was only natural that he would distinguish himself in the sector. A kitchen was more his home than his living room. He did not fear the blades of his knives or the fire of his stove. What he most anguished about what his most severe critic: his own future wife. For he knew that the best way to a person’s heart is through their stomach. And it was all down to the judgement of their taste buds to give the final verdict.

A vintage outfit

©MCD

©MCD

The rattling outside his window in the middle of the night did not wake him. Nor did the scratching of the metal on the pavement disturb his sleep. He paid no attention whatsoever to the movement on his front yard at the break of dawn.

But when he woke, he found it there. Right outside his garage door.

It was just as he imagined it would be. Light brown with silver, red, blue and yellow lines and a green and gold rim round the wheels.

A motorcycle with a sidecar.

It was vintage but he had always dreamed of one. He even knew the little-known fact that “a motorcycle with a sidecar is sometimes called a combination, an outfit, a rig or a hack”.

In his head, he was already racing in the countryside with the “outfit”, among green trees and pick-nick perfect valleys. Driving like in those old movies he used to watch, and hoping he wouldn’t hit a tree and split from his other half.

But… he lacked the company. The one to sit in his sidecar.

Just at that moment, someone made their presence felt.

A gentle bark and a wagging of its fury tail as it approached was all he needed to persuade him to let his fleece-golden Labrador be his sidekick in this new adventure.

A night view that unites

gah_window

©Gah Learner

Look at that full moon. Just days ago, it was but a slit in the night sky. Barely even visible. And now…it illuminates the darkness”.

She stared at the empty page highlighted by her lamp. Still not a word. She just couldn’t get her feelings out. All the words were swirling in her mind. A hurricane inside that refused to exteriorise itself.

And all she could do was stare out the window at the view. It was an essential part of the house they bought together.

Maybe he too is staring at this very moon now too. Wherever he is”.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

The invisible rope

https://www.crissysmith.net/imadh/crissysmith/a-handfasting-is-an-old-pagan-custom-that-dates-back-to-the-time-of-the-ancient-celtics-it-was-a-celtic-marriage-ritual-where-two-people-declare-a-binding-hand-tying-ceremony-wedding-2-983-x-702.jpgThere is a story the elders of a native tribe used to tell the youth when couples were forced to separate often for days on expeditions outside the village in search for food and resources.

There is an invisible rope that binds two people once they fall in love. That rope keeps them together but not tied to one another. It is what joins them and draws them back to each other when they drift apart. But when one of them reacts and tugs at it as if in an attempt to cut it loose, the rope becomes thinner but it still remains there. It only disappears when both sides decide there is nothing there to keep fighting for. When their relationship has lost all the love, understanding and support it once had and once they stop caring for each other. Like everything in life, relationships are only as strong as you care for them, as the love you put into them, and as the effort you devote into keeping them alive. The point of the rope is to demonstrate the distance between two people is supposed to make their relationship stronger, because it shows them how much the other means to them, how much they fill each other’s lives and how much they want each to be on each other’s side. The rope is supposed to become stronger with the distance, otherwise it is not even worth it.

Is it worth the while?

https://rawmultimedia.files.wordpress.com/2015/05/bulbs-with-rain-water-photo.jpegIt is a noted trend that when it rains we all ponder on life questions. What are we doing with our lives? Are we making an impact? Are we doing something worthwhile? Are we learning? Are we evolving? But the most important question we all have unanswered is, what is the point of it all?

Is it to be successful and famous? Is it to achieve something groundbreaking and revolutionary? Or is it simply to be loved? Because the latter may be the hardest of them all – to love and be loved. It is a feeling that is harder to maintain than you think. Because what we seek in that other half of ours is someone who understands us – all of our perks and quirks – and yet still stands next to us. Who comprehends our need to grow, to learn to do things and who – above all – shares that. Who realises that no person is truly ever complete and there is no way that anyone ever reaches a point where they don’t need any more education; who acknowledges that people need to communicate, to socialise, to explore. Because there is an entire world out there which has so much to give us. All we really need to do is understand that we are but a grain of sand in a huge desert. We need each other to survive. And the only way to do so is to complete each other and to make each other stronger, not weaker.

The fortune-teller’s prediction

venice-fatima

©Fatima Fakier

When you meet the one, you’ll see her in Venice”. It was a silly prompt from a fortune-teller at a fair when they were kids. They were not even teenagers then and not even thinking about love. Life was so much easier. Careless and stress-free. But then, both Michael and Lilly grew up. And they lost touch throughout the years. She went abroad to study and he was hired at a local company, working day and night. Life passed them by.

Until chance – or maybe karma – reunited them on a plane to Venice. It was time to fulfil the prediction.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

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