The Dog Ears On Your Favourite Books.
Everything’s going to get to you, one day or another. You don’t anticipate it but it’s approach is imminent, especially when you aren’t looking. You know that one day, one habit you’ve been constantly irate about is going to be the first thing you bring up in a fight. However, you brush in under the carpet hoping it never does come up. And that, they say, is what loving is about. You give chances.
The dog ears on your favourite books are giving you a bad rash and you’re itching to bring it up during dinner later that night, for the millionth time. But, you don’t. You don’t because maybe that day, like every other day, there’s something she does that makes you forget the quirk and instead dwell on a certain aspect of her being around you, that you love.
You give her a chance to make you see beyond the bounds of things like the dog ears in your favourite books, or the coffee stains that decorate the outside of your mug every morning, or the curtains that she’ll never pin up and let’s hang lose for the currents to knock down everything on the nearby mantle, or the fact that she doesn’t roll out of bed but instead pulls the covers along with her as she lazily slides down.
She says you’re as nutty as her grandma’s famous fruitcake when you bring these tiny quibbles up and then proceeds to offer you the best tea in all the land, again in a mug dressed with fresh stains of the sticky beverage. She sits you down while you’re just simmering down, to explain why she refuses to pin the curtains up. She likes to let the winds free, she justifies. If I wasn’t transfixed at her wind blown hair and how she looked like a wacky bat, I’d have snorted out my tea.
“Let the winds free?”, I ask, attempting to tame her big floof ball of hair.
“Pinned up curtains trap winds and don’t let them carry out your negative energy about the said curtains”, she offers, with a delicate smile. Yes, go ahead and think I’m a dummy for buying into her dippy theories, but what can I say, I believe the woman.
Through the years she’s amused me with her erratic ideas of why she does what she does. The multiple dog ears means she’s enjoyed the book so much and has so many things she wishes to remember next time she picks it up. We’re still debating about the concept of bookmarks and notebooks to pen down things she likes. I’m losing.
She defends her habit of sliding off the bed rather than rolling out of it as a way of reminding me she doesn’t like the idea of leaving me. I’d call her bluff but then again, I like that explanation. IN FACT, it might just be the best out of every nonsensical thing she’s come up with.
Over time, I realized, that yes, there are things I’ve asked to be changed a million times, and she does the same things over and over. They once threatened to fill up a vault inside of me of all the things I wished were different. I knew it’d only be time before it bubbles over and I wouldn’t see it the way she does, anymore.
But then again, over time I was taught the concept of going halfway.
She’s given into the idea a wash towel that wipes away the extra coffee from my morning cuppa. Mornings aren’t her best friend and she does a sloppy job at cleaning, but it’s better than the sticky mess it once would be.
The curtains still fly lose but our copper vases are drilled into the mantle and we have hardbound books to ornament it instead of flimsy paged magazines. She chooses to ignore the random sparring matches me and my curtains have when they’re all up in my business.
As for the damn covers coming off of me in the mornings, I have taken it upon myself to gently roll her to the end of the mattress and then send her on her merry way.
And importantly, the dog ears; I know that I’ll be 70 with my earlobes dangling, picking up an old book marked full of dog ears. I’ve chosen to make peace with the fact that my books will never remain the same.
You either choose to make a trivial thing unnecessarily an argument or you take the route that are often times extremely hard, and step into the wild side of things you thought you knew better of. It’s a choice you make, aided by the person who either makes it harder or easier. And if choices that require change are a tad bit easier when told about the reasons for having it done a certain way, reasons that you don’t quite agree with, it is in fact worth making that change.