An Art…
The styles: fountain pens with their inimitable mars.
An infant, cheeks stained with a slender splash of grapefruit juice, arms up for the Winnie the Pooh and his honey bees chasing in circles too far above. His arms wave, tire, fumbling fingers then in his open teething mouth, then up again to reach. Eyes, yearning.
A tot, caramel hair in charming curls, fiddling with a tag on her candy stripe stroller. It rips gently. She grasps it, her painted nails slowly fingering the polyester instructions of care. Her seat jerks, the slip falls. The mother doesn’t notice. She stares, her neck twirled back where it lay, readily ignored, statue against the polished tiles. Eyes, yearning.
A child, knees white in the sun, elbows dark, staring at rings on a bar. He hops, fingers encircling the hoops. Swinging he goes, one after the other, legs in a frenzy of uncoordinated, subconscious moves. He misses. Palms strike the wood bits beneath, loud as quiet can be. He rises. He follows the next, perfection etched in his every stir. Eyes, yearning.
A teen, an hour before stared at her double in earnest satisfaction. A small smile of triumph given to herself then, now glances at the other, lips wishing to vanish, who towers against them all. She traces the gentle curves, the airy hair, the immaculate posture deeming a lady. Eyes, yearning.
A lover, music floating invisibly heavy, breathes. He clutches the phone, whispering. How, he wonders, how? What is in a girl that keeps him awake till 3 in the morning just to listen to her? The map crinkles as the fan brushes its air by. He measures. 2292 miles. Eyes, yearning.
A student, fingers expertly clicking link after link. He stops at the last button. The answer. The words that will write his destiny. He closes his eyes and clicks. He hears it. Solidly against the buzzing of his computer. They open. Inbox: 0. He collapses further into his chair, gaze wandering to the school logo. Eyes, yearning.
A wife, gently fingering the table cloth, dishes set in immaculate positions, sighs. The constant ticking has become a polite friend keeping company. The sun is almost gone, the curtains carving long shadows. Cold. Colder cuts. A tear falls as she faces the un-knocked door. Eyes, yearning.
A grandfather lies, I.V. stinging noncommittally in his arm. Surrounded by all he reaped, and all that he will leave, he asks himself, why? The pain overwhelms him, his muscles recoiling with reaction. He eyes the heart monitor, the green beam beating blandly. He cries inside and wishes. Eyes, yearning.
An Art. Of living.
Yearning.
Holy crap, that was fantastic. My favorite paragraph was that of the lover, but it would be. :) Also, the wife and grandfather were both superb. You’ve got a real knack for this writing thing, y’know?
Comment by Justin — December 5, 2006 @ 12:19 am
Thank you, it’s so perfect–so artfully captured. It’s incredible to know that every person out here on Earth has a story, private, continually unfolding–every one so different, yet so alike. I’m reading about everyone else’s moment, and am so involved. Right now too, my heart yearns. . .
Comment by Tigerlilyindiana — December 7, 2006 @ 6:23 pm
It’s a comfort, albeit a bitter one, knowing that you don’t have to be alone in being alone and yearning, for whatever reason. At the same time I feel yearning doesn’t necessarily have to be negative thing…
Comment by Tyler Durden — December 9, 2006 @ 3:00 pm
Tyler: Of course yearning doesn’t have to be negative. But I think “yearning” is a rather negative form of “craving.” One could probably argue that too actually. You can crave to learn, or/and you can yearn to learn. Explaining the difference between the two statements is not impossible… they are differentiable. But agreed in general: not all yearning is negative :)
Comment by sesquipedalien — December 20, 2006 @ 12:37 am
yearning is a word of many connotations. positive, negative, etc…why try to define this word so immensely? i do not understand how we can completely try to pinpoint ones emotions into a jar as pro or con. Life is unexplanable in many aspects; so here i feel you used an impecable word, bravo! :D
i yearn, because,
i can. indefinitely.
Comment by ashley — December 20, 2006 @ 8:46 pm