Simply Love

VIVO PER LEI (part 1) (Elise Anton)

A very short romance story inspired by Andrea Bocelli's 'Vivo per lei'.

Vivo per lei

It was time. Nine months since their first innocuous exchange. The time it takes for a child to be born,only this child was conceived through words; an entire volume of musings passed back and fort across the vast literary sea dividing worlds.

It was time. The days had passed one after the other, the nights between filled with the next day's words already in place. Filled too with dreams, hidden moments unshared, yet felt each in the other, in the short silences between the tapping of keys. 

It was time. 

She boarded the plane, the twenty some hour journey frightful, the sense of panic palpable. Three books, a note pad and several pens. The man sitting beside her was thankfully far too busy on his laptop to notice her trepidation. 

Would he be there?

He shouldn't be, really. 

But he might be.

She knew him as she knew herself, she knew him as though he was herself. Yet she only had a photo. A single image, without a date... an image she'd poached and often stared at. Nothing remarkable about him really, he was every man. Only the staring had evolved him into the only man.

Would she recognize him?

Did it matter? Andrea Bocelli in her ears... Vivo per lei - she'd had to look up the translation months ago. 

"I live for her since you know

I first met her

I don't remember how, but

she entered my soul and she stayed there.

I live for her because she makes

my heart vibrate strongly

I live for her and it's not a burden."

The music... It was about the music yet it was about her because she was his music. And he was her muse, he wrote the words punched in the night when really she should be dreaming but instead she was within his dreams... meandering past memories and exploring hopes unseen even by him. 

This child between them, this word-full weight she carried was demanding birth. It needed to be held by him - like she'd held it and nurtured it and kept it thriving - it now cried for his arms, his lullabies. She was delivering this child - now the hours had shortened by half. 

Would he love it?

Did it matter?

She loved him. 

This whim, sending her further than every past horizon, it had formed as a scene she'd repeated nightly for so long she was unsure if it was real, not yet another rehearsal, seeking the most perfect ideal. Hundreds of rehearsed alternatives until they all morphed into this one. This one.

Three hours. The journeys in two books had sent her mind away for a time, but now - now she was near. She would either wake to four walls or to the mouth through which she drank the words so long now even this brief pause had parched her insides. Water could not quench the thirst emotions caused - not unless the water in her tears could be drunk... "Oh Andrea, you say what I cannot," she thought. 

to be continued >>>>>