The woman who wears rainbow shorts and dances through the street at night was not always so.
The woman was once born to a mother and father. She wore all black and seldom smiled. The woman was once a girl, one who took her life for granted. The woman was not always a gentle soul; as a girl, she threw words like knives, basking in the anguish she inflicted upon others. These knives symbolized her power, her innate feeling that she dictated those who deserved love, and those who did not, a wicked privilege bestowed upon her by her parents, who believed in nothing less than perfection. Appropriately, the girl never dictated her choices - beyond the former discussed. She had little freedom and hadn’t explored what extraordinary power she had. She moved with urgency and pointedness. She never took a moment to savor her limited time here. All mistakes which would later haunt her.
And years later, they did. The woman who wears rainbow shorts and dances through the street at night was running when we collided. She was strikingly thin, and my bulky frame shattered her mortal shell. As that crumbled, her inside pieces came cascading out.
I’ve never believed in supernatural events; but, I think fate brought us together that night, for she was so vulnerable. If not for some extraordinary workings, I would never have understood why she accepted my invitation on a date that night. If not for some extraordinary workings, I don’t know why I would have even asked. Perhaps I took pity upon her and wanted to help her rebuild her broken self. And so we did.
That night, as we searched for her shattered soul in the bottom of shot glasses and beer cans, we discovered that her past self would be no more. We instead set out, searching to make her anew. She confided in me, how she had treated others, and treated herself, mostly drunkenly, yet that doesn’t make our moment any less real.
She always gave me so much credit, for helping build her back up. My favorite mantra of hers, which she keeps close to her heart each day: “My darling, don’t forget the past, nor regret it, but use it as a tool. Savor the moment, for it may never happen again. Most importantly, don’t let the future come before you beckon it. You are in charge of these, the latter especially.”
And now, as I watch my angel in rainbow shorts as she dances through the streets, I smile as she lives out this very mantra. She grasps a light pole and flings herself about the corner where we first kissed. To some, she may seem distracted as she hums her most favorite tune, eyes closed, yet I know she is wholly and completely immersed in her moment. And as she finishes her grand performance and begins her stroll back to her apartment, she lay a hand on her stomach and looks up, and she thanks her lucky stars, her angel, her husband. Me.