Blank Canvas

By Kyra Higham on March 17, 2017
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To be honest, I was a little skeptical writing this at first. Probably because my soul feels like a cynical old woman who has a heart of rusting gold or the fact that I physically can’t picture myself getting married, at least anytime soon. Call me crazy or lonely, I don’t really care but yeah, that’s just how I feel going into this and it’ll probably result in me getting sappy and nostalgic.

 

Okay, first off, you are now a blank canvas or a shadow figure that I can’t make out yet. I have no idea what you look like. I have no idea if you’re a blonde or a brunette, hell, you could be a redhead or have pitch black hair for all I know. You could be tall or short, have blue eyes or brown, or my green in rare cases. I don’t know if you’re Catholic or Jewish or even want to celebrate religion. As of right now, I know nothing about you other than the fact you’re going to make me the happiest person in this moment. I just haven’t had the chance to meet you yet.

 

I could have already seen you, maybe around campus or while I was grocery shopping or just looking at a bookstore picking up a few books for leisure. Right now I would have no idea it’s you. I could see you every week and exchange a hello and how are you or bump into you around town every now and then and I still would have no idea that it’s you. If I have seen you, seeing you how I do now compared to seeing you when I realize that you’re the one will be like two completely separate images. When the day comes that I truly see you, it will change my life. It’s like final ‘ah-ha’ moment or probably in my case ‘oh shit’. Even if we know each other now, which, again, I have no idea, I don’t know you as the person I’m going to want to spend the rest of my life with. So, in that regard, I just haven’t met you yet. The canvas is still in sketches.

 

You could be the blonde-haired, bright-eyed beauty that always seem to catch my eye with either an hourglass figure or someone that is almost god-like and unattainable. You could be the dark-haired, brown-eyed person that I always seem to actually hang out because I love the way you laugh and cook me your famous dishes. For all I know, you could have red hair, with freckles all along your body, that reminds me of a certain mermaid and I wouldn’t know any different right now. I just haven’t met you yet.

 

You could be on the taller side, so that when I’m looking straight at you, I see you looking down at me with a smirk on your face, commenting on my height nonchalantly. You could be on the shorter side, so that when you go to kiss me you have to rise up on your toes, ever so slightly just so you can reach my cheek or lips. I just haven’t met you yet. The canvas has some details but not quite. You could be the uber-athletic kind of jock that shares the same competitive fire I have, always encouraging and pugnacious that reminds me of high school. You could also be the most uncoordinated human being I’ve ever seen, but you will look so cute trying as you trip over everything in plain sight. I just haven’t met you yet. The canvas has some dabs of color. But for all of the things I don’t know about you right now, which are indeed a lot, there are plenty of things that I already do know about you — even if I have never laid eyes on you in my life; even if I haven’t met you yet. The canvas is thrown out and replaced with a new one.

 

I know for a fact that you love to cuddle. Whether it’s because it helps you fall asleep, or because you’re cold, or because you just like being in my arms while I stroke your hair and kiss your forehead when you’re tired or sad. You’ll probably like sleeping on the right side of the bed, too, and you’re definitely going to wake up in the middle of the night and check to see if I’m still there and pull me close to you. You would hear me sing in the car… and in the shower… and to myself… and especially whenever you think I’m not around and eventually take me by the waist and dance with me. And I love it. You may be embarrassed by it, whether you’re talented or tone-deaf, or you may own it, whether you’re talented or tone-deaf, but I think you’re adorable, regardless because you aren’t afraid to act silly, especially when I take everything so personally.

 

You love a good night in. Not because we’re “boring,” or because we’re part of “that generation,” or that you think I’m “lazy” but because you understand that a night in — whatever that means — is much more common (and proven to be better) than a lavish night out. As an introvert, I take comfort in staying inside and small surroundings. You could take me to a coffee shop and I’d be happy and relaxed. We enjoy each other’s company, so if we want to de-stress and unwind together, we do it. You love to touch. Whether it’s enjoying a slow dance whenever the mood strikes you, or slowly reaching in and taking my hand or offering to massage my shoulders after a long day of work.

 

My family will adore you. I never have brought someone that I can call a significant other or whatnot around my family — probably because there haven’t many situations that got to that point, they just get up and give me one big fat NOPE and bail. Or it’s because of my fear that they will overflow them with questions — but I will want you to meet them someday; they will want to meet you, eagerly waiting; and they will love you just as much as I do. I surely hope so.

 

You will be an incredible parent. And we will be incredible team. Whether our child(ren) sleep(s) through the night or goes through three-hour napping intervals, we will be each other’s teammates to get through it when our child(ren) have nightmares or just a glass of water. We will worry on the first day of school when they get on that bus; we will cheer on the sidelines at sporting events or whatever our child(ren) end up doing; we will study with them; we will watch them grow and give them a better life than we had, even if the ones we had were pretty good because of what we grew up with and the traditions we cherish dear to us.

 

I will admit, that I will question your love for me. It’s that nagging fear that I have that once I have someone, someone or something will take that away. So allow me to love you for that certain moment and take it from there. Even if I still have the shortness of breath and excitement in me whenever I see you, I will eventually not wonder what you’re thinking about because you know you can — and do — talk to me. I will have to worry about you meeting someone else because I know you’ll want only me, at least, I would hope I would be enough for you. You will never have to worry about me meeting someone else because you’ll know I only want you. I’m dedicated to one person and one person alone.

 

I may not have met you yet, but I know an awful lot about you. The canvas is near completion. I know you’re out there whether it’s from another country or another dimension and I know I’ll love you. I don’t know when or where I’m going to meet you, but I know it will be worth the wait and I’ve waited a pretty damn long time. If it’s tomorrow, I would have waited over 19 years, and you’d be worth every hour of the wait; if I don’t meet you until years from now, I will continue to go through every day going about my day but waiting for it to be the one when I meet you. I honestly can’t wait.

 

I am an okay person when it comes to waiting for things, especially things that I’m looking forward to; time always seems to pass like each grain of sand is moseying through the funnel of an hourglass but that’s only because I have patience and keep my mind and heart busy. When I was a kid, I couldn’t sleep on Christmas Eve because I was too excited. But if I can do that… then maybe I can wait for you just a little longer. I know you’re out there; I know you’re worth the wait; at least, I keep telling myself that, and I know that you’re probably looking for me too. I know I love you, I just have to plant my feet on the ground and start looking.

 

The canvas is completed.

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I am just your average college student who loves and breathes writing, sleep, food, and music.

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