Memories can sometimes fade away so fast, leaving behind only the faint wisps of what they used to be.
It astounds me with how fast the time passes us by, with us being caught in a stasis, dazed and in shock. Plans, goals, and hopes almost never play out how we intended them to, yet why do we still bother coming up with yet another optimistic scenario?
***
It was 1991, we were both 7. You were such a tomboyish kid, always with your face smeared with dirt. A mere waif of a girl, in climbing trees and getting stung by bees just like me. I forget how many nights we would sit under the porch light, singing and laughing, pointing out the features of the moon, remarking how the tall tales our mothers told us were really true about that man whose wife urinated on his precious magic herb, and ended up floating away with it to the moon. Our own moon-man, so evident in the dark contours of the waxing sphere above our heads. Caught up in imagination, I think we didn’t notice our hands over each others’ until we pulled away, cheeks burning crimson.
Our first innocent kiss. A childish thing really; a peck just to see how it felt like, before us both making gagging noises and silly faces. But those silly faces were always followed by smiles that remind me of a more innocent time.
***
1995. Both 11 now. You moved away, and for a child, I never remembered being so sad and lonely than I felt then. It wasn’t too far away, but we saw each other less. Each time we were together again though, it was like nothing had changed. The smiles and laughter came out again, as naturally as a bird just knows how to fly.
We made a promise one night, pricking our fingers and writing in blood. “I … when I grow up, will marry …” Undersigned. Pinky swear.
***
A few years later, we were both 13. We shared our moments together, guarding our time with muted jealousy. Those whimsical nights of making out and me running my hand along your back, as you curled up against me, purring with happiness like a cat does next to a warm spot. You were growing up to be quite a beautiful girl; and contrasting with my awkward lanky height gain.
Under the moonlight where we were comfortable, I’d sing to you those old songs that my mother used to play on the little Sony radio:
“The sunlight still radiates into the evening, letting the wind begin its search.
For the soft sound of your footprints have passed here many times before.
The lyrics of a wistful song emits from sorrowful fingers,
Leaving behind a dead soul lasting a thousand years.
The fragile years, though with age, are still ardent within the color of your eyes.”
And you’d smile as you pressed up against me, your warmth spreading over me as we smiled in the darkness.
***
When I was 15, I remember my heartbreak as found out you had a boyfriend. True, I had been running the field, perhaps unfairly to you, but you were more than a friend to me. It’s the sense of loss that makes me realize that we should’ve could’ve. Even after these years, I still feel it. How you were one of the few girls that made me blush like a total dummy when you were around me.
I coped with it the way I trained myself to, by withdrawing and shutting down. And I was done.
I pushed hard to fill the void that accompanied your leaving. Meeting new women, forming secret liaisons, foolish I know. And I thought I became a better man. Still the years passed us by.
***
Your tears began falling on my bare shoulder, soaking my plain white tank top. It was Summer of 2001, and we were both 17. The beating sun drained us with heat radiating off the concrete sidewalk where we laid. I pushed you away slightly, holding you an arm’s length away. You looked so oddly perplexed, even with the smeared mascara streaming down your face. In that moment, we somehow found the strength to laugh again as you fell back onto me, your lips feeling just as soft as I had remembered.
No, he was bad for you. I regretted not being able to be there to catch your fall. You see, I’m one of those sentimental guys, for better or for worse. My memories run deep and strong. And I didn’t want to lose you again.
You grabbed my hand, just like you used to when we were children, and led me back into the house. The world melted around us, fading into white noise as we made feverish love, pressed against that tattered throw over you’ve jealously guarded for years now. And for a moment, time seemed to freeze around us and for once, what we were seemed so natural. But you were just a chrysalis, patient, waiting to fully open.
In time, we parted again. You were that bohemian, who moved along life’s flow like the froth riding the wave’s edge. And all I could do was watch from afar.
***
The years passed us again, and once more we were in relationships. Old memories are meant to be forgotten, though I may be just really terrible at it. Soon we were both in college, me heading north to the Bay, while your legs took you across the country to Boston. We’d keep in touch, and I remember how I’d love to hear your soft laughter on the other end of the phone. We’d share memories, experiences, life. Our hearts were chained across the nation, transmuted through the airwaves, and I was content. I’m not sure if you understand after all these years how much your friendship meant to me, but it really did.
Through our own shaky relationships and experiences, we were still united as one. It’s one of those odd occurrences, but for me, it’s surreal.
Each summer, we met again, and laugh under the moon just like old times. I’d trace my finger along the Milky Way, catching each falling star and giving it to you with wholehearted sincerity. When we were together, my heart rested easy again. It was this feeling of peace that I still cherish and hold close.
But as quickly as you came, you were gone again.
***
After college, we would again keep in contact. We shared thoughts on our travels that work brought us to. Pictures from me backpacking in Europe, to your thoughts on conquering Mt. Fuji. The dots were connected slowly, and it painted a picture of our unique relationship. Together, we had conquered the world. Whenever our paths pushed us back together, we’d make love like how we used to. It was such a beautiful feeling.
One day, I received an email from you. I was in Koh Samui, Thailand, and you were in Rome, Italy. It was a simple message. “Come see me at my wedding J!” And again, I felt the pangs of guilt throttle me. There’s this odd feeling, when I’ve felt that I’ve lost the game. There are just no more dice to roll, or rather, my luck had run out along with my stacks of chips.
***
We saw each other again before your wedding. I was 23 then. You embraced me with such warmth, though inside, I felt only coldness. The flame was dying, though it still flickered, gasping for a breath of air.
Yet I could only hold you away from me again. And with the odd look on your face again, you’d quietly watch me. I whispered to you our old song:
“The violet clouds are still blanket the sky, letting the leaves daydream.
Leaves that weep upon your eyelashes, with your sorrow seeping from your lips.
And the evening spreads through the mountaintops over us,
Dulling this love; causing these tired heels into sadness.
And yet, there are only feelings of regret left to cover these streets.”
And I could see the tears welling up behind your long lashes, as you pulled me closer. “J, I’m finally happy. Please try to understand me.” I could only tell you softly that now, you were that butterfly that you always wanted to be. Gone was your awkwardness girlishness; in its place was a beautiful young woman. And though I had to fight back my sorrow, I had to let you go as you twisted your fingers one last time into mine.
***
You were so beautiful at your wedding, your flowing hair gently blowing in the beach breeze under your veil. It was the perfect fairy-tale come true for you. And on that day, you were the princess.
As I walked away, I wiped the sweat from my brow while deep in thought.
And you were waving at me, but I didn’t see.
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