A Love Story

I had a dream about a love story.

The scene was setting in the sunlit hillside overlooking the green pastures, a boy and a girl under an oak tree. She was sitting against the giant oak tree and he was lying on her lap. He was looking at her with his honey brown eyes full of admiration and love. She launched her gaze far far away to the green hills while combing her fingers through his golden curls. They were just talking softly.

This was after they made love throughout the night with unquenchable thirst and fire. She was in awe of how pure and innocent he is. He drank in her mesmerising beauty and gravitated by her inner strength.

There under the oak tree, he expressed his unfailing love for her with his passion and commitment. And yet, she was torn between her uncontrollable falling for his pureness and innocence, and the dimmest remaining logic.

I would have written on and on about how this sweet love developed and she came to her senses that he loves her unconditionally…

Nah…..

The reality goes like this:

It was a warm autumn day in the east coast of Australia.

An American writer had been spending a long overdue holiday in the land down under. His recent book launch was a success which funded this holiday. He always wanted to live in this land for its rich aboriginal culture and diverse landscapes. He suffers spells of blues most of his life. Wearing the sun shine and ocean breeze seemed to be helping to relieve the itchy jumper prickles.

He hadn’t felt this relaxed and free from torment of the past for a long time. He was almost feeling a tinch of lightness in the foreign land of his dream. He felt he could breathe again and he was able to think pass today to what breakfast he would like tomorrow morning.

Being a bald-headed bearded guy with tattoos, he blended in nicely with local Aussies except when he ordered his meals in a northern American accent. She instantly looked up when she heard that familiar accent and she gave him a grin. He is the type of guy who will avoid eye contacts at all cost, not because of shyness but the intensity he feels when souls colliding.

She is an Australia born Arminian recently returned from Tehran. She spent her school years and most adult life in Tehran. She learned to speak English mostly from soap operas she watched when growing up, hence the familiarity of the American accent. All her Aussie friends asked her ‘How was life in the States?’ when they first met her. She left her 22 years of life in Tehran behind with no regrets. The physical violence and mental anguish she escaped from gave her permanent scars. Although she did regain her will and power to live on in her homeland. Beautiful sunshine, warmth of the locals and the uncomplicated layback life style are assurance for her continue recovery and healing.

They hit it off from the American accent and the share benefit of the sun and ocean, to long walks to watch the sunset. There was no doubt that the attraction was instant regardless the constrain portrayed by both. Love was certainly dancing in the salt air, energising, rejuvenating and invigorating, to the souls, the minds and the mortal bodies.

Life takes unexpected turns. Love comes in a mysterious way. He felt he had just started to leave the bag of bones behind while she just started to settle in the freedom she long missed. They applied their logic and both knew love came in such an inconvenient time.

They traveled together to Uluru (Ayers Rock) to walk the same path the traditional land owners of Australia, the Aboriginal people first set foot on over 20000 years ago. They read about the Aboriginal Australian way of living, the waiting. They wait in life with patience, waiting for rain to fill the rivers, waiting for the bush to open to harvest, waiting for the young people to grow up to flourish. They let the nature guide them, never in a hurry. They listen deeply to connect with the inner springs inside them.

They were at the cross-road of their lives. The choices he made against his heart and the bitter past led to fear filled tormented living death. She was a wounded soul trampled and deprived by the one she vowed her life to. They shared the common longing for healing and restoration.

Finally when they were both standing in front of Uluru, all the questions, uncertainty, insecurity, inability, inadequacy started peeling away, fading, vanishing. Their moment of waiting and listening deeply to connect with their inner springs surfaced to a connection and bond between them. The rain drizzled on the land into the dry rivers, and the rivers overflown into one, the season of harvest, the future of flourishing.

When hope is lost is where hope is found. When love is untangible is where love is a reality.

Published by

Cassa Bassa

๐Ÿ‡ฆ๐Ÿ‡บ๐Ÿ‡จ๐Ÿ‡ณ inquisitive, observant, witty, a thinker, was a misfitย child ๐Ÿ˜Š

9 thoughts on “A Love Story”

  1. “When hope is lost is where hope is found. When love is untangible is where love is a reality.”

    When the impossible is realized. I was mesmerized while reading this. BTW, I wasn’t aware that I had an accent. I attributed accents to those living in the UK and Australia. ๐Ÿ˜‰

    Like

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