Call me old fashioned but I want to wake up on a Sunday morning to someone cooking scrambled eggs, bacon and sausages in the kitchen. I don’t want perfect eggs or well browned sausage. I want the sausages a bit charred and burnt, I want the eggs a little it over salted, and I want the bacon to stick to the pan. I want to taste the scalding metal blended with its delectable smoky flavor. I want them not to want to apologize about the not so perfect but to laugh when they serve it. I want it served on one plate so we can share. I don’t want perfect. Perfection is an illusion and like with al illusions they dissipate into nothingness and we are left with the sting of reality.
I want to wake up to the sound of good music and a folded Sunday paper next to a glass of orange juice. I want to say good morning, give a meaningful peck on the lips and open the daily to the crossword puzzle. I want to struggle over 7 across and read the clue out loud. The person would automatically pick on it and respond with a riddle probably over a date we had that would give me the same answer. A date they were late to or that went pretty bad. A date that went so bad that all we could do was laugh. I want them to laugh and ask me to put the paper aside to enjoy the meal. We will then plan out the day and they will ask if I want to do a morning piece before we leave. They might even throw in a few ideas before heading out and them asking me to carry a coat because it might rain.
I want to forget that I have a phone. I want to be so involved in the moment that I don’t notice it’s fleeting. I want to look up at the sky and wonder where the day light went. I want to look into someone’s eyes and wonder why I love them so much. I want to love someone so much that I can’t look into their eyes without smiling. I want them to wonder why I look at them and smile. I want to tell them stars make me happy. I want to them to ask what she has to do with stars and I want to tell them that I see them in her eyes. I want her to smile but still dismiss it as flattery. I want them to say that’s something I say to every other person. I want them to want me to deny it and make them feel even special.
I want to ask silly questions and get serious answers. I want to ask serious questions and get silly answers. I want not to want to die for them but live. I want to say a prayer and insert their name every time I go to bed. I want them to go to bed before or after me never at the same time. I want them to snore and grunt and turn and call out someone’s name in their sleep. I don’t want them to say my name, I want to know that they think about when they don’t think about me. I want to stare at them sleep and try and guess their dreams. I want to then fall asleep with distance between us because I know they will wake up and pull themselves close. I want to wake up middle of the night and catch them staring at me before they pretend to have been sleeping. I want to pretend I didn’t see it and go back to sleep.
I want to see an odd beauty that’s hidden. One only I appreciate, one that makes them who they are. I want them to not find me perfect. I want them to like the imperfection. I want them to say my stubbornness is thrilling. I want them to think normal is boring. I want to fight once in a while just to feel what it would feel like to lose them. I want that to bring us closer. I want to promise to never fight but do it anyway because it brings a rush. I want people to say we are oddly matched. I want my friends to warn me that I’m loving too dangerously. I want to laugh and be oblivious to that fact.
I want them to hate the music I listen to but listen to it anyway and end up liking it. I want to hate the music they listen to but listen to it anyway and end up liking it. I want them to steal my playlist and put in random songs. I want to pretend openly to be offended but secretly like it and admit it on our anniversary. Yes, I also want an anniversary. An anniversary for everything. The first time we met, the first date, the first birthday I forgot. I want all these to be on random dates as we make them up on the move. I want to have two anniversaries in a year celebrating the same thing because we don’t agree on the exact date.
I want to look forward to Monday’s as much as Sunday because they are my Sunday. I want them to read stuff like this and see themselves in the words. I want them to wait till they see me and quote a line and tease me about it. I want them not to see something they can make better but something they think is at its best. I want not to care about age. I want them not to care about age. I want them not to care about titles. I want them to suggest a board game in the middle of a movie. I want not to have that game and we’d have to go and look for it but end up getting something else like a hat for her teddy bears.
But also most importantly I want to wake up from this dream.