It’s the newness of it all. The newness of her. The unstruck match you keep in the back of that one drawer of extra stuff, until comes that one day you find a candle you really like and you need a match and you remember that it’s there in the back of that drawer. Part of you remembers that it’s there and part of you wonders if maybe it’s been so long that it disappeared somehow. That it left the drawer. Maybe you’ve had a few candles before that you liked but the lighter was in reach, it was close by, it was easier to find, easier to light.
It’s the newness of it all. The newness of her. Something you hadn’t ever seen walk the through the door before. Someone who didn’t know your name or your face. A candle you hadn’t smelled before and a match you remembered was in your drawer but hadn’t reached for in so long.
That night a lighter didn’t cross your mind. You wanted to feel the tip of the match against the striker and the warmth of the flame between your finger tips. You felt that warmth and remembered what it’s like to hold it. To let it fill you.
It burned hot and bright, fast and all at once and maybe you kept lighting it because you liked it so much and so it burned more quickly then the rest of your candles. But it will stay having filled you and it will stay having warmed you.
You live your life spontaneously, by the spur of the moment, you do what you want when you want to. You jump and others follow. You’re a jumper. It was the newness of it all, the newness of her. She jumped and you followed.
For the first time in a long time, you watched as someone jumped with no hesitation. You watched someone spin around and lift their feet off the ground. You watched someone with no fear. As she ran to the end of the dock you watched someone do what you do. She reminded you that it’s okay to be a jumper. To believe in matches.
She ignited something in you that for so long wanted to be lit and showed you that some candles don’t have to be held a certain way to light, because not all candles burn you. She reminded you of you.
When one has so often reached for the lighter, so often been the one to lead, always jumped only to look back at the rest on the dock, or sat at a bar of familiar faces, maybe it’s the newness of it all that scares you. The newness of her.
And so like the match that was for so long at the back of your drawer, maybe she will stay. In the back of your heart, until your candle is ready to be lit again. Until you’re ready to lift your feet up off the ground with her.