She sent me this photo in the morning, and I told her I loved the colors of the sky and the cotton ball like clouds.
She asked me if this is the evening before the storm for her. Or the evening after.
I told her that in my believe, this was the middle of it, and that we need to fix the roof of the house, to safe her from the elements.
I said that we need a wooden stove with a chimney to keep her warm again, and windows to avoid the drafts, and for her to be able again to see the colors on the horizon.
I told her she will know when she is in the eye of the storm. When all is still. When your heartbeat slows down, and a numbness towards your surroundings starts to sink in.
And then a peace fills your very being, the pain goes away, and then you know exactly what to do, because you survived in complete surrender.
And nothing and nobody will keep you from building that house again. You just do.
I always tell her I love her from all those 4000 miles away, and that it will be ok. That I know in my heart that the broken house in her soul under the cotton ball clouds will be so very beautiful.
And she cried, and I cried anyway because it was yesterday, and I couldn’t freaking stop for the heck of it.
And then we laughed, thinking of how often we had to start all over again, and talked of times long gone.
She said life is so hard. I told her that has always been our strength. Because we learned to find happiness on a first night, in a shitty empty place, in a strange town, so far away from all we love.
Because we know the secret of throwing a fairy light over a moving box, lighting a candle and call it beautiful. Knowing that we’ve been there before, and that it’s going to be ok.
For you, with Love.
Simone van Hove Emery.