a wave of sadness engulfs me. i could die today, very peacefully. what a joy to revel in the beauty of sadness - the ability to feel tears springing forth from your eyes without even knowing why. and what a joy it is to sit, staring just ahead, at nothing at all. and the fact that i've felt this lingering desire to stay in my cubicle, though my mind has given up on me, miles ago, that facing scripts, i've lost my ability to mark, that i can stare and think of nothing at all. that the face of calm still presides me, above all odds. sad is a beautiful place to be.
***
i know that for everyone, there's a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. it's just when you can find it and the journey counts. i just wish that the journey wasn't so hard.
***
ever the expert at running away. you're so near, yet so far. the end of a life known, yet no beginning in sight. the strong sense of the end never nearing, the dread to wake up in the mornings and being so tired all the time.
***
it's 5pm when i hit the bed, inertia brought on by a heavy meal of seafood, body strung together by the constraints of being in a car throughout most of the journey, getting caught in a jam. the afternoon sunlight almost prys my eyes open to reality and harsh facts i have to face, but i immerse myself into the sheets, as though immersing myself into them would bring me away from this world. tears in eyes, i imagine a life not lived, children not born, a distinct line that draws me apart from everyone else running the rat race, indulging in wine and dine on weekends, burning the midnight oil on weekdays. i cry for the hand that used to fit in so well in mine, but now seems somehow haphazardly placed into my palm, like a foreign object that simply doesn't belong.
i think of pale wrists and protruding blue veins and white cloth being tied to the steel frame of a hospital bed. and when i wake up, my camisole is plastered to my back with sweat. i roll over and face the ceiling and close my eyes again, wanting to immerse myself in sleep once more, and when that proves impossible, i open my eyes again and discover that the rays of sunlight have disappeared along with my dreams and visions. i struggle to sit up and realise that the weight in my heart has not lessened, nor has the weariness in me. so this is what afternoon siestas render me to - an equally weary entity waking up in silence.
the house is quiet and dark. everyone has left the house. i stumble again the hallways, and turning into a room, bash my hip against the wall. there is a sharp pain and then a warm sensation. my legs feel cool now, as though my blood has curdled.
***
reminiscence is waiting for the bus, perched on metal railings with your feet swaying in flip flops - an ode to the holidays - with a hand draped lazily over your shoulder when you suddenly spy someone from the past drift over to you.
a few words exchanged and the past drifts merrily back to you. memories long gone dredged out, faces of people lain deep in memory almost as though a thin film of dust blanks out their faces, makes them somehow impenetrable to gaze, to scrutiny.
***
i dreamt a dream the other day, a dream which will one day seem wrapped thinly in a layer of dust as well, of a clear day. the skies were a lovely shade of blue and i was driving past the old cathedral. stopping the car, i looked at the steeple covered with bits of snow and the beautiful iron gates coated with white crumbs of snow. slowly, i turn into the driveway of the catherdral and realise that there is not a single car or person in sight. the pond has frozen over, no birds chirp as in summertime. something tells me to make a right turn towards the entrance of the cathedral and there i spy a familiar person looking up towards the closed gates, as though searching for a way to get in. i stop the car and watch him and a few minutes go by before he senses my presence and turns around. i remain seated as he walks over and comes to me, the glass window of the car being the only thing between us. he presses his fingers to the glass and i remember looking at the white on the glass spreading forth from his fingers as though a spread of the sorrow that pervades him. he speaks but i hear nothing - i am captivated by the face that i've not seen in ages. mind torn apart by the years that have separated us and this chance meeting that fate had arranged. the lines i've never noticed - that time has ravaged your face, though not in a bad way. the crows' feet arranged neatly at the corners of your eyes. my fingers shift to the button that makes the window slide down. i press down on it, not knowing that your face will slide down along with it into oblivion. i watch as your face moves along with the glass, as if a picture mounted on glass, the colours fading in the dying sunlight, the flicker of your eyes the only sign that perhaps you were real.
i wake facing upwards, my gaze taking in the ceiling.
an olive on my tongue, i watched the woman in front of me swirl the red wine in her glass, watching the imprint left behind by her lipstick from her sip. i think of the last time we shared a bottle of wine and downed it with baked mussels, the salty smell of the sea filling my nostrils, my skirt billowing past my thighs and how my beach chair sank into the sand as i threw back my head and laughed. red lips that will forever be etched in my memory, for from them i received the words i remember most painfully. a smudge of lipstick on her teeth is all i can think of as the news sinks in. perfect coiffed hair, a tiny wisp of fringe detaches itself from its place as i stare at her, the breeze reminding me of the last breeze that carressed us together, that was part of the moment as the sun went down and the red wine spilled onto the sand, making me think of drops of blood on sand. my mind searches desperately for reminders, for details to pry on, just so that reality does not sink in.
but it does. later on that night with a cheap bottle of whisky, i find myself in front of the television, crouched down on the cold marble floor, not even realising that i was crying till my tears fell on my arms, startling me.
***
I thought it strange how though the details of the dream had slipped through my fingers like fine sand, i could still clearly remember that the dream was about him. and i find it strange how fate intertwined and bestowed us with four days together, stolen hours and how time has conspired and stretched its way past me such that it's been almost a year and a half that i've not seen him face to face, not withstanding the two times i caught sight of him along the road, cold shock running through my veins like a spurt of cold water. i woke up knowing that i missed memories of him.
***
life moves on, time ticks by. or how should i have prayed before her niche? what was i to say? what am i supposed to believe? a small sliver of doubt that she still exists in the world today - her spirit? where is she? i really do miss her. or what should i recall as i stand before her niche, head bowed, hands together in prayer. sadly, all drew a blank. then i tried to think of her as i remembered her - the best memories ever - me springing a surprise vist to her laden with her favourite food and crying out to her loudly from the doorway, "GRANDMA!" and what joy it was to see her head raised in surprise and happiness slowly spread across her face. and the other good memories of sitting at the table next to the window with her, spooning out food that i'd bought, half for the maid and the ratty old fan that always freaked me out since it had no cover for its blades. i miss that house and all it stood for. and then i knew how i would never forget her and thoughts of her would still flit into my mind now and then and i really didn't have to think of how i should feel everyday or on the exact date of her death because i really do remember her in my own way, everyday. and that's why i can cry now typing this when i thought i'd healed after a year. grief never really goes away. i do love you. and i know you're happier wherever you are.
***
so, in a way, i'm glad for the push factor because i was starting to think - is this how i spend the rest of my life?
