the weather forecast says it will snow all day so there is no point in going outside. every corner in the city will be blanketed with the heavy white powder. the sun will hide so the powder won’t melt. we are doomed to stay inside for a whole day, so we get prepared the previous night. he sets up his computer on the small table of our small kitchen, closes all the windows in the apartment making sure the cold won’t get in, or so that the heat can stay in. he pulls out more and more blankets from the closet, cuddles my toes with the smallest one. “your feet get cold”, he remembers out loud, as if somehow i have forgotten how my own body works. but he does that: remembers of the little mechanisms that keep me awake and tries to eliminate them by putting things around them. the heat is inside our apartment and inside our bed. i will sleep warm and sound. he knows this.
when the smell of coffee mixed with lavender wakes me up, i don’t know what time it is. it could be morning, everything is sour and burned, hot and earthly. every morning here smells like mellow coffee beans; a smell that makes every color in the apartment turn suddenly darker. the white walls are now bathed in sunlight so they are a soft beige. the pink curtains are now sodden in wine. the old greyish sweatshirt i sleep in is now a mirror of the night sky. i’m not sure how can a smell turn everything into something else, but believe me, it can.
but the lavender is also here. so it could be the middle of the afternoon, that glimpse of sun sneaking into every room through the curtains making every piece of furniture aware of itself through it’s shadows, as if saying: this is you when you let yourself be touched by light. here, we know it is that time of the day, because we burn a bundle of sage and lavander, parading it around the apartment. we started doing it because we didn’t like the smell of wet walls, how the paint began to crack, the corners began to darken. we chose lavender because i liked the color and he liked the smell. they call it the golden hour, we renamed it the lilac time.
so it can be any hour of the day. out the window it all looks null, everything is the same, so i don’t know. he is sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. out the corner of my eye, i can see the sage and lavander burning. “what time is it?” i ask. “does it matter?” he says, “we have to stay in.” and he is right. i don’t need to know the time because i have nowhere to go, except the kitchen chair in front of him, except the corner in the kitchen where the coffee pot is still hot.
he tells me about an old highschool classmate who announced on instagram that he is going to be a dad. “it’s crazy, don’t you think?” maybe the part that is crazy is that this one classmate doesn’t look like a dad, or maybe it’s the fact he announced it on instagram, or maybe the part where people are having completely different lives than we are. but we are here. and the world outside has been put at a halt. nobody asked us if we agreed. the sun just went away.
but why do i need the sun? why do i need to know time? if all i need is coffee and lavander. and what is coffee and lavander if not the man i love? the world can cease to exist as long as i can live inside this apartment. as long as i can be cuddled in this place where everything has come together to give me my little piece of god. this, this for me, is being inside of god. because what is god if not creating a space where color and scent can give me a different light? what is god if not giving me a different life than all the other people? what is god if not the man i love eliminating time and everything else, to give me what i enjoy the most? what is god if not love? what is love if not this man?