The woman with the green sparkly hat

The Kiss by Gustav Klimt

Dublin, Ireland, March 17th, 2014.

Everyone was in full green attire, ready to watch and celebrate the special parade for St. Patrick's day. I was there with some friends, and we woke up early to get a good view of the parade. 

The parade began, and everyone started cheering, super excited to watch it. 

 I, on the other hand, was instantly distracted by an old couple in front of me, and entered my own bubble and started watching something else; a live narration of a pure and golden love. 

A green sparkly hat, white hair, a cane in one hand, and his hand in the other. Old age caused her back to bend a little, and his hand to hold hers tighter, a little. She was shorter than him, and he tried to get her into the front row so that she could get a good view. Every now and then she would look back to make sure he was there, behind her, and that he too was having a good time. He would give a reassuring smile and she would go back to watching the parade, smiling a little because she's there, and more because he's there with her.

I couldn't stop looking at them, they were just too cute! And my mind started wandering, going back to that time when they had first met each other.

They first met in class, they were both early, and it was just them two.  

"Hi."

"Hey."

"You new around here."

"Yeah, it's my first day."

Class began, and so did their story. 

With time, and a lot of classes in common , they became friends, and it just escalated from there. 

My mind took me to the moment he first fell in love with her. Sitting across from each other, he reached out for her hand, he had a shy look in his eyes, and she could tell he had gathered every grain of courage in him to finally touch her hand; even if it were for a split second. She looked at him, and she saw it, she knew that something was going to happen, and that touch was the first of many to come.

That was the first time he looked at her this way; he looked through her, and his eyes revealed the secret he had been trying to keep for a while now. When their eyes locked she knew it would not be too long before she would trip and fall for him.  She had never seen him smile like that before, and she knew that he would make her smile, like she never had before. 

The parade was getting louder and louder, I step out of my mind for a second, and then go back to the story in my head.

After that smile, everything changed. He made her fall for him, just like she knew he would,  with his charming personality, and the way he showed her that he cared. He'd call her out of the blue just to tell her that he loved her and can't stop thinking about her. She would act cool about it, trying hard not to show him that with every word she fell a million times deeper in love with him.

But after a while, she decided to let her guard down, in a way she had never done before,  she let him in, and loved him with no "because". She saw him for who he is, she saw his wounded soul, and then felt it was okay to show him hers. He was a mess, but he was her mess. She too was a mess, and she was his mess. They did not fix each other, but rather shared the imperfections of their souls and hearts, and only later did they realize that, this was what perfection meant. 

Then there was a time when they were both ready to give up, and decided that it was no longer worth it, for the things that were pushing them apart started to become more than the things that were keeping them together. 

The parade continues, dancers, performers, music, cheering. He holds her hand tighter, and she tightens her grip as well. The same way they held the ropes of their relationship together for 70 years. When she would let loose he would grip harder and when he was tired, she would grip so hard, that her hands would sometimes bleed. But she didn't care because she knew; that to love is to "to be wounded by your own understanding of love; and to bleed willingly and joyfully" (Khalil Gibran). Willingly and joyfully they held it together. They maintained a balance, never letting the ropes fall apart, until the ropes no longer needed to be held, and were in place naturally, and easily. 

 Their love grew so much that two hearts were no longer enough to hold it all in, and they loved new souls into the world. Their first child, was the first blossoming of the love they had for each other, and a third heart to help share the love they both felt; and it went on and on, and with every child their love grew bigger. Two hearts, three, four, and then there were eight hearts; beating together, for each other.  

The parade was almost over, her husband looked at the person next to him and said "We came here 55 years ago, and I am happy we can be here again after all this time." 

She's smiling really hard, she was really happy to see the parade, like a little kid. And he's smiling even harder, he was really happy to make her smile, like a little kid, even after all that time. 

The parade was over, and they started walking back home, hand in hand, just as they had come in. 

Dublin, Ireland, March 17th, 2014.

That day I saw one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen in my life; a woman with a green sparkly hat, white hair, a curved back, a cane in one hand, and his hand in another, a pure heart, and a story that needed no words to be told. 

'The Kiss' by Klimt is one of my all time favorite pieces. Two hearts, and one golden halo. Pure, true, sacred, vulnerable, unbreakable, eternal, precious, just like the lady in the green sparkly hat, and her husband. 

'The Kiss' whispers the story of the woman with the green sparkly hat.