are you ten years ago?
“Sometimes it’s as if I can summon you with my thoughts.”
A classic double take, it’s such a cliché that it doesn’t even sound like the truth.
Or puzzling hesitation because you could feel yourself spiraling out of control. I’m sure that’s been interpreted the wrong way over and over. The endless moments of almost, like standing too close, like our legs touching when we sat, like your arm brushing against mine as you lost your balance walking home, like a hug lasting for too long. Like overthinking.
Like goodbyes for an hour. Or maybe forgetting the goodbye. Like comfortable silence, but speaking without words. Or regretting coming over, or regretting leaving. That stupid smile that you can’t wipe off your face, or the tears you can’t seem to stop. Words you can’t say, or can’t swallow.
Perhaps chasing, or running. Sometimes hiding. Those times giving in.
Replay, rewind, repeat. Set to loop.
It’s a rare luxury to have been unable to fall out of love again.
lights out
Sometimes I daydream about the things we never did that we should have done. But I realise that makes no sense, because the things we did were what mattered. Maybe we didn’t go on walks around the city, and maybe we didn’t go swimming in a lake. Maybe we didn’t dry off under the sun on towels, or make a fire to roast marshmallows.
I never got to show you my favourite parts of the city, or take you to my favourite coffee place. We didn’t ice skate or see a movie together.
But the things we did were just you and I. No props and no distractions, just us together. And the electricity that would undoubtedly get us in trouble until the lights were out.
afraid
“I’m afraid it’s too late”, she says. I know it is. I just don’t want to know. I want to keep dreaming up the stories of how things would be, how I’d be a better person somehow, like how I wouldn’t be stuck being me. Somehow I’d be who I wanted to be, and you’d be who you always dreamed you’d be too.
Nothing would be painful, because after all it was meant to be. Sunday would be our days to discover, and we’d share the things we’d wondered about all week under the dim lighting in our living room sitting close together under a blanket. I’d ask if you wanted to share a bottle of wine with me, and then we would laugh at our own theories on life because we know nothing. But at least we would laugh.
big dreams
August drifted by as a surprise, like it never even existed. I spent the days feeling old things, and small moments like concentrating on flicking the ashes off a cigarette from the window of your car and looking over at you mouthing the words to this song while squinting at the afternoon sun.
The air smelled like damp asphalt and the rising heat made squiggly shapes in the air like a magic trick. You’re riding solo backed by a bittersweet symphony and we’re going anywhere.
matter
I think it’s just that feeling of waking up next to you and it would be safe to be there, bad breath and puffy eyes, but you would ask me how I slept and I would be okay even if I hadn’t slept at all.
Or the playfulness of an afternoon, like how there would be no expectations outside of what I had actually done. The celebrations of achievements, as if nothing really mattered and our truth was the truest truth.
Or how all my ideas were somehow great ideas, no matter how silly - and so the freedom to have more was unlimited. You’d encourage me no matter what I’d say, because you wanted to do anything too.
Everything was an adventure, not because we made it an adventure but because it just felt that way. Because there were no limits. Because anything could happen. Because everything that mattered was you and I.
currents
Find me here, where I’m hidden from plain sight - where I believe no one can see me. Where I try to play it off, like I’m not even that bothered by it, like I’m just annoyed you didn’t understand what I wanted you to do.
Where I outline my big emotions without dipping into the gritty details, where we can romanticise our flaws and shortcomings. Find me here when I’m finding my words fall short, because they can’t begin to describe the waves that live inside me, building slowly like tsunamis. When everything goes quiet, and I gaze into the horizon bewildered, only to be struck by violent currents that I knew lived just below the surface.
static
want to take you back to my place
and show you that I'm not always quiet and broody
you could take your shoes off while you
look at who I have chosen to hang
pictures of in the hallway and
then I could have pointed to a book I knew
that you have read too, making you notice
my bookshelves and all the words
I have chosen to keep nearby
maybe you would have checked out the stacks of movies
or the chaotic desk
pencils spread across countless drawing pads
and open notebooks everywhere
while I pressed play on the stereo
and waited for you to realise
that you should like me
goodbye
"Write a book" she said, "Write a book about what?", I said.
I've always said I wanted to write a book, and so have you - maybe it’s in our DNA. But the most important thing, I think, is that I talk about you and your story, from my point of view, and our point of view, all the things you've done and the things you wanted to do but didn't.
We all have so many stories, and your story became mine, and ours has become yours. The stories that you never wrote, that I've never heard, they might just be lost or live on with someone else. But you are a part of me anyway, and maybe I will write a book and maybe I won’t. It doesn't really matter that much. And you, at some point, were everything to me.
Now you’ve gone on to new adventures. I wish you were always here and I love you and everything you have been. Sleep well, Mom.
soundtrack
Sometimes, when I’m walking down the street, a song comes on and becomes the soundtrack of my mind. It’s the rare sensation of music hitting the moment as if it was tailored for it, somehow expressing every little thing you’re unable to say or shout out or cry about or feel proud about, but you can just listen and walk in that feeling as if the world revolves around you. Which it does, come to think of it.
Today, I walk through the white forests again, and I hear the faint sound of water streaming far away. I imagine it, half frozen and streaming through flaky ice, almost solid in some places, narrowing and struggling to pass through. Like me and you. I hear the sighs of trees under the weight of wet snow, leaning ever so slightly to the left or right, waiting for spring to rejuvenate their veins once again, to stretch and moan toward the sunlight with green spuds yearning for warmth. The distinct sound of snow underneath my feet, crackling beneath me as I walk across the open field and the chirping birds, the ones that stayed behind as a blanket fell across our woods. I feel calm. Maybe mindful is a place to be, out here.
return
The trees were heavy and covered in snow, every bit of the landscape resembled a blank sheet of paper as I moved slowly between the shrubs and bushes. I hadn’t visited for a while, but clearly neither had anyone else. The white covered everything, sparkling softly as the sun spread its warm rays throughout the morning hours.
My feet were deep into coldness, and every step became a struggle as I kept on, walking deeper into the forest. As I reached the lake, nothing remained. The small cabin, the fire pit, the shed with our fishing rods were all gone, buried long ago. I could barely make out small shapes of where we’d once lived, and it seemed a lifetime ago all of a sudden. Even the lake was lost, just part of the scenery now, I didn’t know where it started or ended and maybe it didn’t start or end anywhere by now. As I looked around, I noticed something by the edge of the woods. I got closer, and crouched. There were footprints here.
I squinted slightly, staring into the thick vegetation and saw you there, leaning against a trunk.
“Hello?”
The sound of my voice made you jump, and you looked back at me bewildered. It was as if you’d been here all along, and my presence disturbed your train of thought. “How long have you been here?” I said. “Always.” you replied, no expression on your face. It was a pointed needle now, no longer a confession. “It’s good to see you.” I said and walked over to you.
i used to
Fall came along, and I didn’t hear from you again. I don’t know exactly why, and I don’t know why I didn’t ask either. But I’d walk through the mall and imagine seeing you there, moving swiftly between stores in your Nirvana t-shirt and beanie.
When winter arrived, heavy snow covering the streets and trees, I’d avoid the walk home from work, taking the subway instead. I’d stop by the art supply store, and browse for a while just in case you’d happen to be nearby.
The snow melted once again, spring just around the corner. I’d go to the park, and subconsciously search the groups of friends scattered on the grass, maybe you’d be here too.
I’d spend summer afternoons going to bars with my friends, and I knew you used to come there too. And I didn’t even notice that I looked to the door any time someone walked in. But you never did. I spent so much time looking for you without searching.
I still do, even though you don’t live here anymore.
sleep
I mean, it’s a strange feeling to miss something so taken for granted. We all sleep. And we all spend hours of meaningless time watching Netflix or play our ukuleles, we read fictional tales or study the topics of our current interest. We go to the gym or ignore going to the gym completely.
But only after you go to sleep. When you sleep, all your sins are washed away. Did you draw on the floor today instead of your colouring book? Did you throw your penguins on the floor so they cracked open? Did you make a fuss about dressing or undressing? Did you refuse to eat your breakfast or dinner? Yes you probably did. But then, when I picked you up, you wrapped your hands around my neck so hard, the way you just learned how to. And I asked you to do it again, because mommy loves it when you do that. And you did. Then I said to prepare for brushing your teeth, and you ran to the sink for the first time, and what did I ever do to deserve such a child?
I watch you sleep on the monitor, bundled up in your favourite blanket that grandma let you take home with you, and you look so peaceful. I could probably use some more sleep, but watching you seems important somehow.
music
Our voices blend, and your laughter fills the spaces in between. I close my eyes and listen to memories, to ghosts from the past.
I never noticed the messages you sent me, maybe I was busy being self involved. But I hear them now, much later. It’s a strange feeling, and though it always makes you wonder what if, there are no ifs. Just when.
sunkissed
There was a moment when the morning sun struck her through the window of the bus, lighting up her entire being. The golden rays played through her hair and lit it on fire, and her skin looked like porcelain. It was a moment I couldn’t forget, and I envisioned so many more moments like that, moments of such pure pride of being hers. And no one else would ever witness them. They were all mine to keep, and I saved them for rainy days and moments of doubt. It could be the thing that would always keep us afloat. It would be enough, just the memory of feeling that way. Holding onto the magic of a few minutes when everything was aligned and the warmth of being there could battle any coldness to ever occur.
Don’t forget.
introvert
“You have another quality that no one knows about”, he said with a triumphant smile. She hadn’t ever heard him speak of any quality she had, let alone a secret one. She was curious now, and so were the others gathered around the small table.
He leaned in, but just kept smiling as if he wasn’t ever going to tell. “Well, I’m curious now.” she said and laughed. Fred, who was sat in the middle of them had an amused expression as his eyes moved between the two. “Do you want to know what it is?” he teased. Everyone was suddenly in on the conversation, all ears. “You have a great voice. It’s one of those voices that make you feel safe and warm, and you could just listen to it forever.”
She laughed. “That was the last thing I expected you to say.” She shook her head and raised her glass in a toast. He leaned across Fred. “It’s just one of those things where you want to curl up in your lap and listen to you tell stories all night.” he said.
“Well, I do know Brown Bear by heart, so I’ll recite it to you whenever you’d like.” she said, smiling. Good compliments are hard to come by.
suspicious minds
“There are words I wish I could take back, and secrets I wish I had never told you.”
She stared at me from across the room, searching for anything that could break me down, for any button to be pushed. And I didn’t know why.
All I wanted was to tell her how I felt, that’s all I ever wanted to do. And yet, she was looking for more. For something unknown to me, she wanted to find that something that could make this all go away. I don’t think it mattered anymore whether or not it was true.
Sometimes it would be easy to notice, the way she would grab hold of the wrong part of a sentence, the part that wasn’t meant to be emphasised. We would agree that it had been an error in communication most of the times, and laughed about it on good days. But the bad days kept coming, until there were only bad days left.
We set this bridge on fire from both ends, and maybe that was intentional. At some point, if no one ever crosses a bridge, no one needed it in the first place.
when he wakes
It’s impossible to describe the feeling of seeing her again, her smile and her eyes, the way she looked at him and then looked away if their eyes locked for too long. She moves with such grace, a silent confidence she’s not even aware of.
He walks over to her and pulls her close. “It’s so good to see you”, he whispers in her ear and her head tilts slightly as if his breath tickled her neck. He lets his hands travel down along her back and rest at her waist. Such a familiar sensation, lost for the longest time. “Come back to me”, he says and forgets about all the years between them. “I will” she says and her lips meet his as they have many times before. He clings to this moment as if he’s holding on for his life, knowing it’ll soon be gone.
When he wakes, he spends the day letting her go all over again.