Rich Grace

A woman originating from a Dineh tribe,
"I remember only a small part,
But this is what I remember."


He begged his case to a girl that didn't care.

I love her.

But that was not enough. Those words alone could not encompass the depth of his feelings, nor the span of his emotions.

I can't live without her.
She's all I ever think about.

But the words just sounded trite, like anything he could have picked up from a soap opera.

The feel of her hand when it's grasped in mine. Her skin is the softest I've ever felt, with all the calluses of an artist. Her blonde hair of silk. Her eyes, blue as the piece of sky that rests upon a glacier.

And it's not just when I'm around her that my heart accelerates. It's the very thought of her - the memory of her body beneath mine and the way I felt my very being explode kissing her. It's the imagination of repeating those movements. It's the anticipation to spend as long with her as this life allows me to.

The words of an aghast, exhausted, lost boy who just wants to find his girlfriend echoed in his mind.

"Nothing works without her, none of this.
I need her now.
It fucking hurts, so much."

And while that got close to the magnitude of his emotions, it could not cover all that he felt. The words were not his own; they bore the distinct taste of having been borrowed.

What was his? Well, it had always been her.

She is my best friend, my other half. She sees into the workings of my mind and the strings of my heart, and she understands.

She is every wandering thought, she is every note that graces my ears, she is every taste to pass my lips, she is every vision behind my closed eyes. She is sensation itself.

I've never been one to espouse the idea of the human 'soul', but when I am with her, there is a part of me - separate from my mind and my body - that comes alive. She makes me want to believe, not only in the best of myself, but in happiness and the very vibrations of life.