Noah
All of the girls fall in love with Noah because he is an unlikely man in the sweetest way, rearranging pieces of himself to paint a perfect picture full of color that pops— orange, yellow, red, and autumn brown. When his season comes around, he blooms with genuine gleam, and leads the rest of the kids to the playground where they follow him around, listening to his stories of childhood and comfort. Speaking with his hands, he is animated and full of character. The quality of clothing that clings to his body shapes him into someone humble and loyal, gentle and true, and as he crosses the street, it’s like a film scene with every surrounding object leaning in his direction, putting him at centerstage, being cheered for by a crowd, their eyes shining with jealousy because it can’t be emphasized enough how so badly everyone knows he’s a star. They say that there are two types of people in the world: ones that want to be Noah and ones that want to love him. The latter is a privilege, the former an honor. But at the end of the day, said people know that Noah will always be Noah, no matter which group you wish to be in.
Noah comes from a place of love, but also hurt. He values his chosen family like a lifeline because it is one. It is his. It’s his purpose for breathing, for creating, and for moving past grievances. For Noah, that is and always will be, a difficult task to complete. So, he’s intentional about never making enemies. In war, he throws his weapon down and surrenders because he’d rather lose than cause others pain. With his hands in the air, palms facing up, he takes the blame, because he has a list of things about himself that he’s working on.
His thoughts race faster than the pulses of those girls who love him, their hero, their angel, their boy. His eyes shimmer like the sun setting on a lake with a backdrop of mountains, and when he places them on your face, you’ll melt along with the light. Noah looks like a dream, the kind that you try so hard to remember in the morning so that you can replay it in your head when you go back to sleep the following night. He feels like acceptance. When he wraps his arms around you, it feels like safety and security, a rarity. He’s so special that when he loves, small parts of it are placed within the people he’s giving it to, like a memory, but with physical feeling, like a tightening in your chest when he’s gone, and an explosion in your heart when he’s near. Everyone always hopes he’ll stay near, and never stray far. But sometimes, that path calls his name, and he needs to walk it for his own reasons. We miss him when it happens, when he goes his own way in solitude.
On Sundays, he asks the universe for a sign. A cause. An omen. All he wants to know is everything, after all. He prays for love, and for joy, he thanks God for his mom, and he doesn’t take any of it for granted. He’s the type of man you want to believe in. Noah acts tough, but he walks with kindness, strolling down a harmless, innocent lane named after himself.
But to tell you the truth, my favorite part about Noah is not that he is a charmer, or that he loves junk food and hates vitamins, or that he dances like no one is watching, or that he vocalizes his appreciations with ease. It is not that he’s so beautifully peaceful when he sleeps, or that he cares so strongly about other people’s feelings, or that, if he could for the rest of his life do one thing, it would be to lie in bed and watch television. A close second would be that he makes sure to tell you that he thinks you look pretty, that his eyes seem to hold sweet secrets, that his kisses taste like butterflies in your stomach, that his personality is a precious thing. When it comes to Noah, to tell you the truth, my favorite part about him is his entirety, because if I am a bunch of bits that are supposed to make up a person, Noah is the thing that makes me feel one step closer to complete.