i still curate our future life
Little did you know, I still curate our future little life inside my head.
Wherever I go and whenever I see anything at all that I know you’d like, it’s going to the endless list inside my head. As little as a ceramic mug and as big as a house listed in Bandung or BSD or somewhere far away from where nobody can touch us.
As silly as a figurine of a frog that I know you’d hate but would let me keep just because you love the amusement it gives me. I’ll put the frog on the table next to the front door, and you’ll come home from work finding yourself smiling at it like an old friend each time — your keys jingle as you put it beside the vase I saw once on Pinterest.
As fluffed up as the sofa I saw in Ikea the other day that fits the color scheme you like but the dainty homey feeling that I want, it’s important because we will binge-watch Game of Thrones there as you explain the whole plot to me. I hope you like cat hair because it sure will be covered by them as soon as it sits in our living room.
As fragile as this clay bowl I found on my TikTok for you page. It’s got silly patterns, big enough to put chips in for your football match nights. A silly patterned mug that goes with it for the coffee I’d make even at 2 am, just to sit beside you while you gleefully shout at the tv. I sip my drink in annoyed awe, grateful I'm witnessing this live instead of on the other side of the world ignored during a call for a stupid sports event.
As simple as the knit pattern in this blanket I saw in the mall just yesterday, for when I curl up in your arms reading some book in my never-ending TBR list or crocheting. I’d like to think in the future I’m someone who crochets you hats and tiny socks for our kid. I’d make those cat ear ones that you will absolutely think are ridiculous, but I’ll catch you wearing them around the house.
Our future life didn’t stop when we did, and if I can’t honor and love you now then I can nurture this delusion, at least a little bit longer. At least until I experience other little peaceful things to savor. Even then, maybe I’d still need it, occasionally.
Because just like any bookmarked articles gathering e-dust in my browser, you never know when you’ll actually need it. So for as long as I live and am able to conjure thoughts inside my head, rest assured that you are somewhere — somewhen — safe and happy under a blanket, with me.
