Utopia

The state of being in which everything is perfect. No errors. No miscommunication. No misunderstandings. A parallel universe where you and I are together, for life, for eternity, for forever.

Where we fall asleep, curled up in each other’s arms, safe and sound. Where I wake up every morning and realise that in you, I've found a piece of myself I never knew was missing. Where mortality isn't a burden, but a reminder to enjoy the short lived bliss that is you.

You with your perfect smile, your caring words, your concerned looks, your affirmative touches and those relaxing back rubs. You with your stolen looks and stolen kisses and conniving schemes to annoy me, just to see my face contoured in anger, hands on my hips waving an angry finger, and just when I think I've had it with you, you break into one of those goofy smiles of yours, and my fury all but melts away, the last bits taken care of, with one scoop of chocolate ice cream for compromise. 

My utopia then, is those warm mornings when we fight with the day, we steal a few moments of togetherness before the reality of mundane life takes us away. It’s that kiss on my forehead before we walk out for work. It’s your hand on the small of my back when we’re walking back home, with crumpled formals and tired eyes but with each other to hold. It’s your face when I bring out your favourite pastry after dinner, just a tiny surprise to see you grinning like a little kid!

My Utopia is getting up for work on a weekend, seeing you curled up in bed, and having the reassurance that when I come back, you’ll be there, lazing in your pyjamas, waiting to devour me, loving every inch of the tired, exhausted, and dishevelled mess that is me. My fatigue melts away at your slightest touch, and we spend the warm afternoon, exploring each other, body and mind, caressing the right places and losing ourselves and finding each other in this intricate, carnal embrace.

My Utopia is me in the kitchen, making something you like, smells of orange and cardamom and sugars wafting into the house, and you slowly quailing in, wrapping your arms around me, nibbling at my ear, kissing that tiny place between my shoulder and my neck and me letting out muffled moans that make you snicker, because after all, aren't you the one person that knows all my weak spots and just how to use them. Use them against me and for your advantage, but well, how does it matter? Aren't I just a slave to all your whims and fancies? Am I not all yours, to do what you please and isn't the fact that my gratification is your greatest thrill, a fantastic consolation?!

My Utopia is bringing you steaming cups of coffee, made just the way you like, with the right amount of milk and sugar and a touch of cinnamon, a concoction only I get right, you tell me. I know that isn't true, I never make it as well as you’d like, but I'm thankful you don’t complain. It’s watching your face contoured in frustration as you stay up all night, typing away on your laptop solving an emergency at work, as I fall asleep on the bed, waiting for you crash next to me. It’s me waking up in the middle of the night to see you still hard at work, and noiselessly bringing you another cup, giving your shoulders a gentle massage while you say your guilt ridden apologies and I give you a peck on the cheek, an unspoken message that it’s okay.

My Utopia is the way you look at me as I get ready for our date night, a pale periwinkle dress, the earrings you brought for me when we had our biggest fight and I was haunted by the threat of losing you forever and yet, you turned up with a gift for me, apologising for a fight which was all my fault. I see the way your expressions change as I paint my lips red, your eyes telling me tales of how you’re falling in love with me all over again!

My Utopia is all this unsaid and unspoken that passes between us- one look, one touch, one tiny blink of an eye is all it takes.

Do we say ‘I love you’ that often? I don’t know. But I'm sure we do show it enough, and then some more.

This is my Utopia. It’s not just this life that I hope we lead at some point in time in the future, doing what we do and leaving trail of star light in our wake, but it’s more than that. It’s this present state of wait and hope and anticipation.

The hope that someday, this will be our Utopia. Till then, I’ll keep hoping, living in this perfect state of being affirmatively hopeful of the future.

Waiting for Utopia is my Utopia.