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Lovers with Grey Voices

April 22, 2012

December 11, 2011 7:06pm

Yesterday, I sat in the usual spot at Indigo Cafe with my roommate, M. (Which, if I might add, is where I am now. I simply love this place! It makes me feel as though I am a writer, writing a really important piece in a cafe in NYC.) Of course, we were both busy studying away for final exams. Occasionally though, my attention would wander away from the task at hand.

At one point, an older man, with a lady who looked like she could have been about five-ten years younger than him, sat down beside us. I couldn’t help but listen to their conversation. M called it eavesdropping, I called it observing human nature. Watching them gave me this sort of indescribable feeling; the feeling of being wrapped in a blanket, a feeling of contentment, but still, it was something  beyond that. Sometimes, they sat in long moments of silence, watching others, or watching after one another. Other times, she talked about the holidays and asked of his opinion on gifts. She talked about venturing off to the spa together on Christmas Eve, and about him flying over to Paris to meet her for New Year’s.

They were speaking in english but both had french accents. They spoke to each other with such effortless breaths. He had a very low voice, one that was unusually low. She had a very soothing voice, soft; a voice that I would imagine every Kindergarden teacher to have. At one point, after a long moment of silence, she reached across the table and rested her palm against his cheek. He leaned into it.

“You have a grey voice,” she said.

“A great voice?” he asked.

“No, a grey voice.”

And with that, she pulled her hand back, and again, they sat in silence.

I don’t know what was between them. Maybe they were married, maybe not. But what I do know is that she loved him, and that he loved her. Even with so few words exchanged between them, I could feel the love resonating off of them. I could feel the hum of it as much as I could hear it.

This reminded me of what my good friend, N, asked me the other day.

“Which would you rather: have love and lose it, or not  have love at all?”

In a way, the answer seems obvious. Of course I would much rather have love, and lose it, than not to have love at all! I wouldn’t want to miss out on the feeling of being in love! But now, as I sit and ponder this question, I’m not too sure that I would choose the former over the latter.

Love is scary – or so it looks from behind the red velvet rope. I’m not too sure I could handle the heartbreak. Knowing that I had something so great, so amazing, I’m not sure that I could ever forgive myself for losing it. But then again, I’ve never been in love so, of course, I wouldn’t really know the answers to my questions. I see love all around me and I wonder how I will approach it when it comes after me. What will things be like? Good? Or Bad?

But anyway, when love finally does chase after me, it will eventually catch me, and maybe then, I’ll decide which I would rather.

(I probably still would’t have the answer though.)

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