(16) The sorrows of young writer - A Year Ago on March 26

Things are sweeter when they're lost. I know because once I wanted something and got it. It was the only thing I ever wanted badly, Dot, and when I got it it turned to dust in my hand.

Fitzgerald

 

Let me take you back in time

 

One year ago, March 26

As painful as it is to reflect on the moments swallowed by the past I must go back so you can have an understanding of who I am.  And I am the person that waited for her behind that building on a warm early afternoon. I always felt so calm and excited at the same time when I was looking at her. The two totally different emotions pulling me apart. As I try to relive the moment now, I feel a tingling in my spine. I know that feeling is lost but I still try to reach for it in an abyss of the past.

We took a walk and we had the most random conversation. I cannot even remember. She wanted to buy a mask for a party so we wondered into a small shop. I always felt so clumsy when I was following her on the streets, but I think she felt the same. We were bumping into each other’s arms, our shoulders touched from time to time. The touches became more and more frequent but we hadn’t had an idea of where we’re headed.

She only had few minutes to meet on that day but it dragged on and minutes turned into an hour. She had to leave, but I managed to persuade her into taking a longer way to her car. I cannot remember what she had said that prompted me to act. She was one step ahead of me when I grabbed her with my both hands, and pressed her back on my chest sinking my nose into he hair. I still remember the smell…

We crossed the street; she still being a step ahead of me. We probably talked nonsense. I grabbed her hand and turned her around. I pressed her against a cold wall and kissed her. For couple of months I had been waiting for this to happen and there I was, having her surrender after all that time, after all those sleepless nights. What has she done to me?

Sometimes I wish I could go back in time to see us holding each other on that corner. Sometimes the desire to relive certain moments in past becomes dangerously appealing. But that moment cannot ever be repeated, those feelings cannot ever be evoked and that shadow that I still see in my head and feel in my guts are just the demons, the ghosts of the past. I wish to live in that moment forever, I wish I would have said then: ‘Let’s make this last a little longer so that multitude inside of us understands how we can be one.’

That moment will not repeat itself. And as the rain had washed down the dirt of the street that afternoon, the time washed down our shadows of that street.