A Vase of Us

By Pooja Beera

A Moment in love makes us live life in its entirety. A moment of closeness makes us enjoy survival. A moment together never failed to feel good. This is how Freya believed how love should feel. When Freya loses the touch with kindness, she finds herself fading away into the darkness. she knows that upheaval has its cost.Freya who's in her 40's moves away from her home and stays with a 20 something girl where she spends her long nights forging, trying to redefine.When Freya meets Melo, she once again recognizes the light within which helps her to come out on the other side.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pooja Beera
• Release date: Apr 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9798632346344

Book preview

It’d be nice to be your baby always

No dark place feels more sad, than the look of a hopeless before a closed-door of hopes. There is nothing worse I could do to him than to take away the embrace.

I made him burn. And if I put it like that, he’d deny.

Anything that came from you to me, is like a sweet note. If you’d bring any touch and run it right through me, it is an antidote. You’re everything but harm to me. I just hope I'll always be your babe, Logan states with a face I could always remember.

I could never forget the face which was grimaced in pain, when Melo came to pick me at the house as I pretended, I needed a simple trip for my summers at her place in Massachusetts, and both of us know that face of pretense when we wear one. For the time we've spent, we grasp those little things about each other, like Logan always slams the door unnecessarily loud. He never lets anyone fold his clothes. He has to always interfere in what I pack for a trip including the picnic bag. I always under crowd it or overcrowd it he says, also it's true, but Logan has a subtle way of probing what's not specific. Not only with the tangible objects, but he's also very well with the elements that are vague. He hates to do his bed and I convinced myself to keep them untidy on the days he annoys me. You should see his face which is pulled down to his chin when he has to do it by himself. He likes the squishing of barefoot on the grounds, he thinks of it as a great cantata. I hear my footsteps now. I hear them floating in his rooms over the strings he plays.

That evening,

I just crammed my clothes and toiletries in a duffel bag and a mini satchel made by Logan himself and walked myself out, unable to sham, that it's not killing me. And it's the first time after many years I have to pack just my own stuff, because I needed to flock separately. We just bought a new haircare duo, argan oil, and rosemary, I left it for him, kept it at the essential oils stand we picked at old Santa Fe village pretty recently so that he'd not worry too much looking for it.

I'm afraid to breathe out the air, thinking there won't be any left under my nose, to breathe in and I sensed the same dire in Logan’s movements.

It'd be unfitting to cry because none of us were saying a thing. Also, we both looked more concentrated on what it might make the other feel, than to how it might affect us. I know you already feel bad doing it, but when I thought about what will I exactly make you go through if I held, made me want to give you a release, even though, I can completely stop you, which I didn't, he told me when he came to Dennis to see me, looking straight into my eyes, just like he always does, which he never quit doing.

And I realized one thing that day, after I went back to my room minutes later to the talk, that he just always made me see why he should be around. I was the one who was running out of things in me, to be around.

He didn't mind allowing me to think I'm free from him, if that's what I needed to push down the bad thoughts that kept howling too loud. The February of 2016, I thought I was going to do the harder part between us, which was to ask him to forget me for myself, but Logan was killing himself doing the painfilled thing he had to do, which was to forget himself to hold me. I couldn't say anything more, even though I know what to say, I never learned a way to talk against him when he makes sense.

Also, we never yelled at each other, our arguments would feel like songs too, just imagine musical instruments playing over our heated conversations, they'd just sound no less equal to our friendly dialogue, even romantic ones.

His face got clouded over each time hearing me say things that feel sad, it got sunless when he has to say the stuff that would hurt us. We would bare the whole day, more precisely the whole drama of the day, to sleep into each other's arms.

Even after 20 years of our shared space and time, we never misused the proximity to spill salt in each other's eyes. I mean, that would've made us bleed more than we could think of, but that would be really ugly. Don't you think it means something to get close like this? would be our lines but seriously, what it means to get close like that? what it means to know him like I know him, if one day I have to use it against him. Instead, I thought I'd use it for him, even if one day we have to go too long.

I remember his face. I know it's hard for him to see me go. I know his fears, at least I think I do, but Logan who I came too long from, it's fatuous to put it like that. It's risible to think we're outsiders, he's more than a memory in my life. I'm wondering if he just comes around to see how I'm doing and ask if I want to take a walk in the night, I’d not be surprised. My days need him to be more than a memory. It's only so much worse my days could get, when that's the face I get to see every day. His face is like a spectrum of pastels we find in the sky, so easy on the eyes, it almost hurts me to think I know it. Its beaming tone is all over me. Sometimes I wonder, where would I go wearing his face? looking like him? I can't avoid thinking like that. His feel is a high rise, it almost looks like me when I'm imbued. Though I'm still catching up, I suppose everybody matches everybody when they are imbued.

We started something, hoping to turn prettier and prettier, coming into its own, taking its hold, but I doubt we reach there because Logan and I were always on the verge of seeing something miraculous or only just a disastrous end.

Song 1

Moony misty eyes

Sending my emotion, would you buy?

spending my embrace, spend it all the way

floors are floating in the sky

hands on my lace

flooded in tastes

a waterfowl swimming in your highs

hear an emotion from me to you

because I get so lost in your moony, moony misty eyes.

It gets soften after a twirl into his tempo

he surrounds like a dream,

romps like a power

he ceases your mind at him

and you think of everything but now

with a hint of his sugar.

I believe we assemble so much concrete quality, disposition, and leeway, when the tide of love washes over us. When that happens, we have to hold on to it. I was 21, believing hasn't been simpler because I saw me being open. Honesty has never been a comfortable couch, but it began to feel like one. Being young at rendering honesty and rendering what love is, it felt like feeling a connection, it’s a strong pull, and I am inclined to get scattered, inclined to be some form again. Everything happens, happens with fain, with a soft, cute, almost taffy disposition. I grew stubborn and persuasive about it. And I know we are only so stubborn when we know what we want. I just want to love.

Just the thought of staying in love felt more appeasing. Also, I don't want to be without it. It just gets lonely easily so, I filled my glass to the brim with the plans of love, thinking how it's going to crown me and how I'm going to crown it.

I was trying to take the height off from the temptation and put it elsewhere. Trying to be appetizing, trying to make somebody mine. Had been in some bad dates and a few bad break-ups but those didn't make me drop my patience, it had a little room left, wasn't looking to cop a feel, also can't stand if somebody faked a feel, was still figuring out, but I know, I stand way too close to the arrows.

I didn't realize I'm in an uncomfortable phase with myself to let someone know Maybe I'm not helping you to know me or Maybe I'm so open which is throwing you off, I didn't know which one of these or maybe something else, which I still don't know even to this day. But when you are a little girl or a little boy, there are other phases you are entering too, which makes you question,

What I know about myself?

How I think about myself?

To a sky of my mind, I'm building bridges to learn what’s figmental and what’s real about me. I noticed when I’m painting myself to someone, making a point of certainty of what’s made-up and what’s not, squashed up my soul and the spread out to straighten isn't happening that easy. Right now, I'm this person but I might not be the one I think I know always. But I was trying to stick close to the ways which allow me to follow the changes in me. It's already bad that I'm unaware of a lot of substance but it's worse to not know ever. It's like experiencing a zero-day and it’s worse because it's not just for a period but for an unbearable period in being not knowing who I don’t want to be and who I can be in the ugly and the cute. I was willing to know, if I could be that monster in the grisly, would I be kind enough to put a soporific effect on the drinker, go easy on her and give her a second chance?

I'm aware that there’s going to be slipshod times, there's going to be jeopardy, all I care to know is how would I pull through it? How would I pull through it without running myself down? I wasn't deflecting those questions neither I was comfortable with them appearing all the time. And every time they occur the way I came back wasn't the same. Sometimes it's subsuming into its blanket of thick mist, sometimes it's all about allowing. Allowing one to be failing in its radius is the only way to take back to the focus. And I just don't know if there is one such way that works for every time, but I'm not refusing to respond. You can only imagine what one might grow into and sort of stick with them based on that. So, the reality of the situation is, I'm going to meet a guy who must be a little boy who we all were. He's going to be having a whole room of things that I might be unaware of, that he still hasn't known himself to show me. I should be ready to leave a little room to the disastrous bale he might have, and I shouldn't be heightening it up but instead do the opposite. It requires being in a necessary way to be a grown up, a responsible adult, responsible human and I'm trying my best to take it on without looking like too much of a fool, although there's only a little I can do, I'm just hanging in there until I stop weirding out and get comfortable with it and actually feel right being one. Because I'm the mind of a girl who cannot fit into formats, my brains wouldn't pick those programmed rituals. So, I’m certain there's no other way than to do it my way.

When I walk to downtown Denver on a Monday morning, into a sea of people who were those little boys and little girls, trying to mimic adulthood, taking up adulthood, I was one of them. It was still new to me. Definitely not coming naturally. I was trying too hard. When I think of it now, it felt like I was doing what I had to do then and Logan was doing what he had to, to meet like that, to connect like that. I wasn't looking for somebody wiser, wasn't hoping for a boyfriend who is sorted, I mean if that would have been the case, it would have its own consequences, generally, everything relatively has its own ramification both good and bad. I just didn't mind a creature in shambles knowing that I was exactly one of them. Just didn't mind fallibility. Logan if anything he is warm, alive and free and I'm devoted to taking care of his latitude. He was trying to be flexible in life and its choices. So was I.

I used to think I'm bad at trailing the marrow. In the least I’m going to end up with citation for deciphering and finding what's replacing the essence I actually got. I try to converge and round-up, as if there's something I need to see and touch. But I'm still outside the gates of glow, maybe so long away, so I was prepared to accept that I'm good at traveling alone, admitting that I'm a loner available to another loner. But it's for the way he looks at the stars that I thought Damn! I would love to do it together.

I'm in my garden in Massachusetts, loomed up by faint hills of worries, they're in a distance as I'm trying to write about us. Every time I walk out of my door, I'm hoping it's to his place. Every time he calls someone, I'm hoping it's my name. 'Freya,' he takes my name carrying a touch of sugar and emotion as if that's the only way he could say and I'm happy he's drunk on me. As he's spreading my name, my whole self, convenes in one place as if it wants to be attentive to everything that's his. He calls 'Freya' and I'm not anymore just the 'Freya Lemon' I know myself from, I'm something more, something more than

all I got, which I tried to sponge up into me. The things he said about me were the only things I'd like to be filled with, which I'm afraid I may not be good at hugging them to my skin, if he let go.

Logan, I can trace him when I think of him, should have bruised my fingers one by one as I'm following forming his shape, but there is a renew within each nib. I can't hate his world, because I believe it's temple halls!

I just allowed me to go back to see his face once again, it made me chuckle. Suddenly it’s too much skin in my room and it gets a little too much when I'm alone with him as he buttons down his shirt to his chest and moves around the rooms casually. It's a disaster, but it's sweet. I close my eyes and occasionally find me kissing him. He belonged to the berries universe, in a state of rose moons, a boy down the hill, climbing up with caskets of pearls and jewels. He'd have easily distracted me and have me stick my doting eyes on him in any moment of daze or trepidity. This quick act of mine assures me that I'm not the only one who owns me. Is that the right feeling? Allowing the only place that you could rule the roost, allowing it to be a shared place? Since when did I felt okay with that?

I want to take a little love. I don't know if we can be a part of something without having a part of us amputated. A piece always goes out, in my case the whole self. The question was, will it be a trouble to lose that piece, to hold. But the quest for the truth always arrives behind time. Not until I know that he would make it hard for me to think of traveling alone like I once did before. Do I really need to be alarmed? It's actually not as frightening as I felt it would be. He's actually an absence of daunting. He could've been if he wanted to, but he didn't. However, I wouldn't be cut up and alone if he walks beside me.

Silver skin under sparkled waters, sparkling as he senses my wonders. I’m sure that the sun has to do something with it. It’s raining gold that summer, as I fell into a wonder only wishing it could last. But there is so much room when you say it's love. So much room that you get so lost in its halls. I wouldn't say I wasn't enjoying, but I was also sometimes trying to find me, who's getting pieced in the whole gamut of it. Maybe it's the same with Logan. Hoping to feel the gathering that got inside my heart as well as his, only waiting it will work. And you can't put a doorstop to your heart. And when you try, it rots. We're children and it's blurry, but I like to think we were at our best because we were in love.

I was looking for jobs as a hairdresser, also at that time, I was part-timing as a yoga teacher, mostly involved sun salutations and a few asanas which I learned through the course of practicing. The workshops contained mostly kids from my neighborhood. I was newly 18, when I started training. By 21, I got used to the studio side of it. Sometimes it involved outdoor workshops backdropped by the mountains of Colorado.

My mom never did a great job with my hair, so since I was little, I was looking at options, I was looking at magazines and models and just generally people fashion-wise or not. I decided I'd try it and guess I never got out. That's when yoga became a secondary thing as a job because getting into pompadours used to take up all my space, also I loved being in and exploring styles. It didn’t keep me away from continuing practicing yoga regularly. It's a lifestyle. I'm always writing it under the good habits.

I used to live with Lisa, my childhood friend from Englewood. She and I split the bills on mostly everything, sometimes she was kind to pay my bills, soon she had to move out into an apartment near Boulder, since she moved in with her guy. So, the apartment in Littleton was all left to me. I stayed in the room but felt the difficulty to completely reshape it into my own. It took time for the walls to get used to only seeing my face. It also took time for me to think, they now were only mine. The faster I act to take hold on the house, the quicker I understand that those walls couldn't have abandoned me or been cold to me and rue the day Lisa left, for not having me to be the one to leave rather. Afterall, she’s their loving owner. Those were some pretty serious nightmares I had for ages. Actually, it's little disturbing for me to accept anything, when it's giving me it's complete control, I don't know why? Maybe I had issues at believing something could be fully my own.

I lived with my parents, before I moved in with Lisa and after she moved out, that was the first time, I've ever had an entire house to myself. Hadn't been just with myself ever, so I looked for roommates but decided not to, as it occurred to me that I was constantly surrounded, and I couldn't ever see myself outside them. Though, it felt conscious for a little while I thought it's a good time in my life to be alone with myself. Also, if I couldn't be alone with myself and be in peace, then it's spiking an issue. In the beginning, it felt alright, by the end of the 3rd week of September, 6 months since Lisa went away, it really began to feel lonely. Being alone felt like dropping from a hill but landing on a sponge only you weren't informed there's going to be a safe landing. It's not a great deal to sign in but I signed in and obliged to it as if it was the only case it left me with.