What Matters Most

I’ve pretty much always known that it’s love that matters most, by a street, and that, luckily, giving is way better than getting, and there’s very little rhyme or reason to it.

I love people who have an orderly life, spreadsheets at their fingertips and charts and plans for everything, but I worry for them, in case they just explode one day.

I love people who love cats, even though I know they have to be mad as a box of frogs.

I love people who have a favourite thing, just hope they decide to smash it to pieces one day.

I love people who are always negative, they’re just trying to save themselves disappointment, sacrificing the possibility of joy.

I love people who are comically self-centred, I think of them as kids.

I love people I haven’t seen for years, and will never see again, but the love is still locked in.

I love people who run, away from something, towards something, or just for the heck of it.

I love people who are anxious and overwhelmed but carry on, draining all around them, but keeping themselves afloat, just about, and that’s good by me.

I love people who sometimes hug a tree, mainly because there’s not too many of us about, on my patch just me and Imo, aged two, who is such an advanced soul she not only hugs trees but kisses them too.

I love people who give me big cigars, there’s not enough of them in the world.

I love people who were thought of as a pickle as a kid, they’re always the most interesting adults.

I love people who sing Kate Bush songs when the radio in the car is broken, it makes me laugh even just writing it down.

I love people who talk and talk and talk, about themselves, but I sometimes wonder what came first, the loneliness or the talking.

I love Milo, who told me ‘this and better might do, this and better never do’, what a gift she gave me.

I love people who call me Alisdairo, well, just the one person actually, Eliso the Great.

I love people who have a sparkle in their eyes, they can do no wrong by me.

I love people who read my blog, that means you, Dear Reader, who do you love?

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