Pink Love

Ruth wakes up. It’s 5.30am, almost two hours before her habitual raising time, but strangely she has never felt so rejuvenated. What a great chance to catch the sunrise, she tells herself. Her husband, still sleeping at her side, is snoring like he ever does. But today, rather than being annoyed, Ruth cannot escape a large grin.

She rushes to the kitchen as if the floor was made of lava. She can feel the tiles, consciously, with every single inch of the skin of her feet. She uses her feet to hug them. Another smile escapes.

While she’s preparing her daily Jasmine tea, she notices the sun-rays warming her back through the open window. The air is filled with scents of Nature: flowers, trees, fruits, grass freshly cut, even dung. She shivers. Her eyes get teary. Life truly is beautiful.

She stands by the window for a full quarter of an hour, taking the sun in. She is not thinking. Anything at all. She is just slightly looking down, smiling, and feeling. She feels love. She is full of it. She is ready to give it to the world. The whole world. She’s never felt like this.

On her way to the washroom something strikes her. Reminiscences of a time when her and Robert, her husband, were adept of spending days living in the dirt, surrounded by people like them, live music, and drugs. This morning feels a little like one of the many LSD trips they had in their youth. All the inside of her house is shiny, bright. Colors are vivid in a way that she has never noticed before. She almost can touch them.

She rests on the warm toilet seat, and lets a thin golden yellow stream of life drizzling down. She smiles again.

Today is going to be one of those days.