I Think I Love Her

I don't know when I first fell for her. Perhaps it was the moment I met her, the moment I looked into her warm eyes, and her quirky smile appeared on her full, pouting lips. She had been quick to laugh and eager to investigate, much like her daughter, though I'm sure she'd be loath to admit it.

Perhaps it was the first time I saw her angry, and the flush of her cheeks was so beautiful and passionate. Her voice was low as she regained control of herself, her temper clearly simmering at boiling point. Her lively demeanour had been pushed to the point of a breakdown, and angry tears resided in her eyes.

Then again, it could just as easily be the time I first saw her cooking her chocolate. She had a dark stain of cocoa on the tip of her nose and flour covering her apron. She her hair scraped back out of her face and there was a crease in her brow from concentrating as she poured exactly the correct amount of another ingredient into the mixture.

It could possibly be the first time I was close enough to her to catch her scent. Chocolate, naturally, and the chilli that she put in her hot drinks. But something else too. It's indescribable, her natural aroma, so much more inviting than the sweet things she made and bought and loved for. It reminds me of warmth, of a smouldering fire and hot summer days. It's unique, just like everything else about her.

How do you define love? It is partly physical, and partly spiritual. Though I'd better not describe it like that when she's within earshot; she would use that fiery disposition of hers against me if I described my feelings towards her as 'spiritual'. Her indifference to the prospect of death continues to leave me astounded. I have no fear of death. It is inevitable, and how do you fear the inevitable, because you are merely wasting what time you have, fearing something you cannot change. I am much better off wasting my fear on other things. Like what I would do without her.

I try not to think like that though. I know she hates it when I worry about what I'd do without her. She tells me that it's silly to dwell on such emotions, because I'm not without her, so why concern myself with these troubles? But I've spent time away from her, and it was more painful than I could have imagined. All I could think of was her. Her and her silly chocolaterie, and her wonderful daughter. Who would have known that I would be so keen to settle down. After so many years of insisting being alone is the best way to live I find the woman of my dreams, and then nearly let her slip through my fingers.

She stills feels the urge to leave sometimes. I can always tell, and that's hen I worry the most. I know it pains her to think of leaving too, but it's in her blood: it's to be expected of her. She always seems more distant when the wind calls to her, as if she tries to cut herself off from me. It's at times like this that I hold her all the more tightly as we lie together, and kiss her all the more vigorously whenever she is close to me.

Is this love? This desperate yearning to be closer, even when she stands but three feet away from me? Perhaps it is. Or perhaps I shall never truly know, I shall just have to follow my heart's desire. And my heart's desire is to stay with her. Stay with my Vianne, and her Anouk. And we will continue to live, drinking my favourite – hot chocolate – and living our lives until death or the north wind takes one of us away. I do so hope she stays. I think I love her. I really think I do.

Heyy! Don't know where this came from really. I just sort of started writing. I watched Chocolat today, as you can probably guess. Maybe a little review to tell me what you think? That would mean a lot to me.