Some of the simplest feelings

Some of the simplest feelings could be the most complicated. Not knowing where one thing comes from can bother you for the longest time. We linger on such simple things trying to find a bigger reason for them when the true reason is right there in front of you. We search for meaning and reason in every little thing, to give us peace of mind, but sometimes there isn’t a true reason or a true meaning, sometimes it’s just a simple feeling. The city of Cheshire was a small and quiet one. Beautiful and green, watching the sunrise every morning on the peaceful land was one of my favorite pass times. I lived in a small farmhouse with my father, mother, and two younger sisters. Every day I would go out and help my father with the land since I was the oldest child. We did agriculture and dairy farming. While my father would take care of the land I would spend most of my time helping with the cows as my mother took care of my 8 and 10-year-old sisters. I always preferred being with the animals, taking care of another being was something I liked to do. I would make sure the cows were fed and healthy and then milk them. I would then clean the barn and if my father needed more help I would join him. At night, we would have dinner together, clean up and rest for the next day to come. While my parents and sisters slept, I would make my way outside to the porch where we had a bench and table. I would walk out with a lit candle for light, paper, ink, and a quill. The night was my favorite part of the day. The stars up above lighting the sky as the soft wind blew on your face. There was no noise except for the crickets singing, it was peaceful, perfect for thinking and getting inside your head. When I was nine years old, my mother thought me how to read and write. Ever since I found a passion for it. I write down words that I find inspiring. I’m not great at it, but I keep on going trying to get better. My father told me that what I do is not something I could do forever, that’s why he makes me help him with farming, so when I’m a woman I will be able to take care of myself until I find a husband. I know it’s true, women aren’t writers or poets, we are wives and caretakers, but I like to believe I could be more. The life my mother lives is a comfortable one, one that I know I will end up having in the future, but I don’t want comfortable. As I wrote down words, feelings, phrases, I saw a small light coming from far away, but not so far that I could still see. It came from the neighboring house. There was a man, sitting outside on the porch, the same as me. I put my quill down and stared out at him. All I could see was a shadow, but it was an unknown shadow. Never have I seen a figure there before, I always thought that the house was abandoned by its owners. I looked out wondering, what if he stared out at me wondering the same thing. The next morning, when I made my way outside with buckets to milk the cows I saw the man from the night before standing outside on his porch looking at the horizon. He was no longer a dark shadow in the night, but a man with distinctive features. “Father? Who may that man be?” I asked the second he walked out of the house “He just moved here from the city, claims to be a poet” Answered my father as he made his way towards the fields. I stared at him a while, he was dressed well and looked young yet older than me. I went to the barn and did as I always did every day. Once done with the cows, I grabbed the buckets of milk and made my way back to the house so my father could make the cheese. As I did, I saw the man, still standing on his porch pacing. He stayed there all day. Was that what poets did, stand on their porch all day looking out at the horizon. As I watched him, something in me felt different. He was intriguing, I don’t know why, all he did was stand outside all day, what was so intriguing about that? If there was one thing my mother thought me, it was to have good manners which meant I should go and introduce myself to the new neighbor, because that’s what someone with good manners would do. It took me a good ten minutes to walk to his house. The man saw me approaching and watched me walk the whole way there. When I got to the front steps of his porch he tilted his head and looked at me with curiosity. I felt my body shake with nerves, the way he looked at me was intimidating yet warm. “Hello sir, my name is Bluebell Moore, I’m from the neighboring house," I said “Sir? No need to call me sir, I’m not that old. Please, call me Christopher” He replied with such elegances “Oh, well, hello Christopher, I thought it would be proper for me to introduce myself, is it your first time in Cheshire?” I asked Christopher had a smile on his face, it was lovely, so lovely it made me blush. He was charming and something about him made me feel happy to be in his presence. “Yes, it is my first time in Cheshire. It’s a lovely place, beautiful and peaceful” Christopher said “My father said you are a poet” “Ah yes, I met your father when I got here, he is a nice guy. Yes, I am a poet, I came out here for a bit more inspiration, the city was no place for me” “Well, the sun seems to be going down, I should probably head home. Have a nice evening Christopher” I said to him and left. I was walking in the tall fields towards my home. I looked up at the sky, at the sun that was setting. The sky turned pink and there was not one cloud blocking the beautiful view. I looked back and saw Christopher looking up at the magical sky as well. Something happened to me that day, something changed, my life was no longer simple anymore. I stopped walking and just kept on looking up and took the deepest of breaths. I didn’t go back to see Christopher, something inside me wouldn’t give me the courage to walk over there. What I wrote at night changed, well, not completely, I still wrote about adventures and the sky, and the things I wanted to be, but I also wrote about a man an unknown man who created unknown feelings. He would always be there, out on his porch, with a candle, just like me. I would look at his shadow and like to think he would look at mine. One day, as I worked in the fields with my father, I found a page on the ground. I picked it up and stared at the writing that was on it. A poem was written on the white page. I started reading and was enchanted by the writing. This wasn’t like anything I’ve ever done or anything my mother has ever read to me, it was, something else. That day, I made my way back to Christopher’s home. I knocked on the door and waited for him to come out. “Bluebell!” Said Christopher with a smile as he opened the door. “I’m sorry to bother, but I found this, on my land, told myself it must have been yours” I explained to him Christopher grabbed the page and smiled at me “I thought I lost this, the wind blew it out of my hands the other night” I knew I must have been blushing, my face was burning. “the poem, it’s beautiful.” I said to him “You like poems?” He asked “Love them, I wish I wrote as beautifully as you” I added “I could teach you if you’d like” Christopher said with enthusiasm “No, no, I don’t want to bother” “Bother? you don’t bother me. What do you say, we could meet at most once a day” “I wish, but that would never work, poems and writing, it’s all just a distraction, my father wouldn’t be too happy about me skipping out on farming to write” I explained “How about, at night, I know that’s a good time for you. I see you every night outside on the porch with your candlelight” Christopher said with a small smile on his face “I’ll come by, tonight” I answered. I said goodbye, for now, and ran back home my heart beating as fast as it possibly could. It just felt right, everything felt right when he was involved. I waited eagerly for the night to come. That evening, my parents couldn’t go to bed any slower then they did. I waited in my room staring out the window watching the small candlelight that was lit inside Christopher’s home. Once everything was silent and I knew everyone was asleep I lit a candle and walked out of the house into the darkness. I walked across the field with only the stars and the candle as a light for me to see. Before I made it to the house Christopher walked out. “Not afraid of the dark are you?” Christopher said “The dark? it’s never truly dark if you think about it, so what is there to be afraid of” I answered and walked into Christopher’s home. It was bigger than mine, but not by much. It looked pretty much the same, a dining room, a kitchen, doors probably leading to the bedrooms and an extra room that was furnished with just a chair, a table, and a grand piano. I walked into the room, something about it just lured me in. “I use this room to write,” Christopher said “that’s why it’s so unfurnished, all I need is a chair and table” “Do you play?” I asked As I put my hand on the piano. The sound of this instrument was one of my favorites. I always wanted to play, but my family was always too poor to afford something like this. “Of course, my mother thought me when I was nine” Christopher replied “Play something for me," I said to him. “Anything for you my lady” Christopher bowed and let out a small laughed as he went to sit on the piano bench. His fingers gently hit the piano keys and a beautiful delicate sound started to play. He played with such grace and passion, everything he did was amazing. I watched him play with such pleasure. Christopher hit the last note yet the music was still ringing in my ears. “How do you do the things you do?” I asked “I just find something that inspires me” Christopher responded. He got up from the piano bench and walked around the room. I watched him thinking of something to say. “Why Cheshire, out of all the places in England, why did you come here?” I decided to ask “Well, as you know I’ve come here since it’s much more peaceful then the city, but, if I must say the truth, I picked Cheshire because I don’t know anyone here” Christopher explained “Why would you go somewhere where you know no one?” I added Christopher turned red and starched the top of his head looking a little shy. “This is embarrassing but, it isn’t normal to be a 23-year-old who still isn’t married. I was probably the only person over 17 to not be married back in the city, people look at you oddly” “Well, I’m 17 and my father is eager to marry me off, says I’m getting old,” I said with a small laugh because of how completely ridiculous I sounded. We got lost in each other eyes for a moment, neither of us saying anything anymore. It was odd, how connected I felt, yet, I knew almost nothing about him. “You came here to write did you not. Guess we should get to it” Christopher said breaking the silence that took over the home. We got seated at the table each with a quill in our hands. He started by teaching me how to properly form sentences that would work for poems. I listened carefully wanted to learn but I was also so distracted by him. We were so close, I could hear his heart as it beat. I didn’t want this night to end. Every night, or almost every night I would go back to Christopher’s. I grew as a writer and a poet and so did my feeling for him. I wasn’t nervous when I was with him anymore, but comfortable. It was like I’ve known him for the longest of times and it was always just us. I could see him in my future, I want him in my future, but, I didn’t know if that was possible. My father wanted to marry me off, and when he would it would most probably be to a younger man. I was just a child and he was a man and I didn’t know if the feeling I had were wrong, but they didn’t feel wrong. One night when I got to Christopher's house, he did not greet me at the door but left it unlocked so I could walk in. He sat at the kitchen table with a letter in his hand looking unwell. “Everything all right?” I asked “Blue! Hi, sorry I didn’t get the door I was just-” “It’s fine, you don’t always have to be a gentleman,” I said with a grin. Christopher didn’t smile or say anything, whatever was written in that letter wasn’t good news. “If it’s not a good night, I could always come back,” I told him. “No please, stay, I’m fine, just a little tired, that’s all” Christopher said Christopher folded the letter and put it away in a drawer and made his way to the table where we sat most nights to write. He seemed out of it, I knew something was wrong. After all this time we’ve been together, I was starting to understand him. “Christopher, we don’t have to write tonight.” I said “What do you mean?” He asked “If you want to talk, we can” I replied He got up from the chair and started pacing around the room. I stared at him trying to figure out what was going on in that beautiful mind of his, but couldn’t. “What is your inspiration Blue?” Christopher asked me “My inspiration? Many things I guess” I answered “Like what?” He continued “Life, nature, Uhm, animals, people…” He was my true inspiration. “People, like what kind of people” “I don’t know, my family” Christopher stopped pacing and stared at me. “People, they are inspiring, aren’t they. But Blue, you are the most inspiring one of them all!” My body froze, it felt like something inside me exploded. “Christopher” was all I managed to say at that moment. I slowly got up from my chair and unknowingly took a couple of steps forward. Christopher and I got closer and closer, he put his hand in my hair and the next thing I knew his lips were on mine. We pulled away and looked inside each other eyes. We pulled back together not wanting to let each other go. I never realized how much I craved his soft lips. All the feelings I questioned suddenly disappeared, but it was only for a few moments. I pulled away but still stayed close. “I want to be with you” I whispered “I want to be with you” Christopher said back “But I can’t” I regretted those words the second they left my mouth “we are in different stages of our lives and my father and the farm...” “I’ll wait for you, Blue, Bluebell, I love you” Christopher’s words made my mind go mad. “I love you” I said back. Our lips touched again, we didn’t want to let go of each other, not yet. “I’ll wait for you Blue” Christopher said, “will you wait for me?” “Wait for what?” I asked “Just say you will wait for me” “I’ll wait for you” I couldn’t stop thinking of that night, I went home that day not caring about what my feeling meant and if they were right or wrong, all I knew is that they were there and so were his. He would wait for me, as I would wait for him. The meaning of these words was not known to me, not yet. As I laid in my bed reliving the night I had, I could feel my whole body change. I started to feel things I’ve never felt before. I was growing, blooming, it felt like I was turning into love itself. I fell asleep smiling that night, it was the best I’ve ever slept. I woke up early the next morning to feed the cows. As I walked to the barn I looked over at Christopher’s house. He wasn’t outside that morning staring out at the blue sky as he did most mornings. I did not let my thoughts take over me and kept myself busy with the cows. That day, my father and I finished our farm work later than usual. I wanted to go see Christopher but knew it was too late. Instead, I sat on the porch with my candlelight, but it was not for writing, it was just to think, about Christopher, about those feelings that took over my mind. I sat on my porch waiting, but for what, I didn’t know what I was waiting for. A signal maybe, that Christopher was thinking of me. I expected to see a light, the light of the candle he lit every night, but it did not come. The home was quiet and the night had never been so dark. I woke up to realize I had fallen asleep outside. It was early since my family was still sleeping and the sun was still fighting its way up to the sky. There was a cold breeze, a wind that blew my hair away from my face. There was something about this morning that was not the same as the others, maybe it was the winter approaching faster than planned, or the strange feeling I had in my heart. Something told me to go to Christopher, that I had to see Christopher, and so I did. I walked through the fields as the wind got stronger and blew my dress in all sorts of directions. I got to the front door of Christopher’s home but hesitated before knocking. It was still early I didn’t want to wake him. I turned my back at the house not knowing what I wanted at that moment. I decided to knock anyway. I waited, and waited, but nothing. I knocked once more thinking that he must not have heard the first time, but when he did not come I knew something was wrong. I didn’t want to stay there, I wanted to go back home and so I did. My father was awake this time and saw me walking back from the neighbors home. “Blue? Where have you been?” Asked father “To see the neighbor, do you know where he has gone?” I asked hoping he would have answers. “He left, a day ago, went back to the city” Father replied. I never thought words could hurt this much. I felt my heart shatter in my chest as the tears rose up until there was no more space and they dripped down my cheek. I didn’t know what to do, so, I ran, I ran into the fields where I could be alone, where no one would see me as the pain took over my mind and body. He was gone, the boy who said he loved me was gone, without saying anything. Will you wait for me. Those five words that he said during that moment together meant nothing but now, I started to wonder if they did. Did that mean he would be back, why else would he ask me to wait? Should I wait, I didn’t know. He left me and wanted me to wait for him, was he worth it, was he worth all my time. When I asked myself this question I was sure my answer would be no, but who was I fooling, he was worth all my time, I loved him. I was going to wait for his return, he was the one I wanted to be with, he was the one who helped me with my passion, who thought me, who made me feel… I couldn’t imagine the rest of this life without him in it… And so I waited And waited And waited I waited 8 years for Christopher to come back, to come back to me. One day, the morning was so beautiful, I decided to go out and stare at the sky, I hadn’t done that in a while. The air was soft and the wind made my hair gently dance. Winter had just ended so there was still a cold breeze in the air. I saw a figure from far away come towards my home. It was a man riding a horse with nothing but a small bag on him. I did not recognize the man, maybe because he was still too far away, or too far away in my memory. Before his face became clear, the memories started to replay in my mind. Christopher. He got off his horse and stood in the middle of the field, watching me. I didn’t know how to react, seeing him stand there brought back old times, good times. A hand appeared on my shoulder. “Blue? Who is that man?” There was a lump in my throat, I knew that when I spoke my voice would shake and my tears would fall. “He just moved here from the city, claims to be a poet” was all I managed to say. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, and he of me. “Mommy! Mommy! Look what we found” My three daughters came running out of the house with a doll in their hands. “Blue? Is everything alright?” Asked my husband Jonathan “I just need a moment, can you take the children inside” I said to him. Jonathan did as I asked and brought our three daughters back inside the house. Christopher and I stared at each other but we did not speak, I could understand him just by the look in his eyes. I didn’t know what I was feeling, I felt everything. As he stood there staring at me, staring at the life I had built for myself, I knew he regretted the decisions he had made. He seemed sad, but, he also seemed happy. I couldn’t figure out his thoughts and all I wanted was to know what he was thinking. He said he would wait for me and I him, but only one of us kept that promise. Why say such words to leave and return 8 years later? A small part of me regretted not waiting but I did not regret the life I had made for myself. I loved my children and my husband, yet, the love I had for Christopher was something else, something special. Seeing him now I knew that we would never be together, but, I think I already knew that. We may not be together forever, but the memory of us, the memory of that night will always be with me, forever. Those crazy feelings I had, those feelings that drove me crazy and took time to figure out all seemed so simple now. I never realized how the feeling we think most complicated are the simplest ones and how they all make sense in time…