Conversations with God While They Move Their Furniture

Sometimes you meet someone and you just want to know why

And it’s dark outside again
I start talking out loud to a being that I didn't believe in until yesterday

‘What made you make someone like this?
How did you come up with the way her eyes change colour every split second,
Or the constellations of freckles that cover every inch of perfectly soft skin?’

‘Why did you give this heart and soul to something which looks the way she does?
Did you do it on purpose,
To captivate people like me?’

‘My mother says that everything happens for a reason,
But what reason can there be for her? She is by definition unreasonable, imperfect, impossible, the most challenging girl I’ve ever met.
Did you make her to challenge me?
Or humanity?
Or herself?’

‘Why would you make her so strong that she cannot be fragile?
It is cruel to watch someone you want to be made of steel, unbreakable and fierce, forged in her own fires,
Melt.
Even when she melts into your lap and you stroke the copper coloured hair she wears like a crown and wait for her to build herself again.’

‘There is no such thing as a soulmate, singular.
People grow and change and the girl you thought was made for you at eighteen will probably not be the same woman you’re in love with at twenty five.
No one is made for one another, you bend and twist and break a little sometimes.
Or so I thought.
Now I wonder, did you make her for me? Or me for her.
Something fits where it’s never fit before.’

‘On that note, did you bring us together?
I don't believe in coincidence.
‘Where are you guys from?’ the shop assistant asks. I say London and she says another city, thousands of miles away.
‘But we found each other here’ I finish off with a smile.’

‘Maybe I should just accept that things happen and there is no explaining them.
She is made the way she is and I am made the way I am, and all I can do is love her, love her, love her, until I can’t any more.
Am I right?’

And at that moment, there’s a flash, a roll of thunder, the heavens open.
She told me that thunder is just God moving their furniture around
And I had got so lost in her smile and the way her arms pulled me in tight that I forgot to ask what lightening is.

‘I’ll take that as a yes.’