Melancholy musings drift across a room, floating gently on the strains of a piano, wafting towards the open window. As they float into the night air, they shiver gently in the cold and spread out, warming his heart as he sits by his window.
And quietly, as the wind carries her sadness in a tune familiar to them both, they begin to hum together;he as he sits by the window and she as she lies in bed watching the shadows dance on the walls. The melancholy that was hers is now his.
They sing together, two strangers on a moonlit night, longing and loving an idea in the distance. So far, and yet so, so, close. They sing together.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
Magical Weekend
So we meet people along the way and make little memories, snapshots in time that could fill a whole album in itself. Sometimes you know you won't see them again and once they leave, things will have changed in that one moment when you say goodbye. The magic is over. The fairytale is left incomplete.
I had one such weekend, filled with memories and snapshots made with newfound friends from what seems to me now is a different world altogether. Two warm, funny, genuine, intelligent and insanely witty boys who brought a little sunshine, a little hope and a lot of laughs into a weekend. Sunshine and laughs because it was a pleasure spending time with them. Hope, because they are, as one remarked, a dying breed-- gentlemen, and truly good, wonderful folk. Girls can usually tell.
And as I woke this morning, knowing they'd gone back to where they came from, where they belong, in spite of myself, I feel like I miss old friends. Sometimes you connect with people, you share a wavelength and you think that's all there is to it. Sure, it happens, perhaps more often than you think. But when they're gone you realise, that to do so even when you're from two entirely different parts of the world, from cultures that differ so vastly from one another, it's a much more beautiful thing.
And sometimes there's more magic in the fairytale than you bargained for. In a style true to myself, I embarrassed myself twice in the same evening, which most people will admit is a hard thing to do, even once. But maybe the slip (literally and figuratively) wasn't so bad. I got to kiss and hold and dance (albeit embarrassedly) with a boy who, within 24 hours proved to be a real gem of a person. In all my time in this country, I haven't met a single bloke who I could laugh with, talk to, and enjoy doing so without worrying whether I would be expected to go to bed with him.
This weekend was a fairytale. If I remember correctly, it started with me asking for the time at the concert. What followed was a magic and madness. Laughter and learning. Dancing, singing, handstands on grassy patches, and running after buses. Kissing a wonderful stranger and making new friends. In the end, the fairytale was, as all fairytales are- unexpected, beautiful, a wonderful story to share, an experience to speak of. This one has a bittersweet ending, but oh well, what fairytales do best is give you what you most need.
Hope.
I had one such weekend, filled with memories and snapshots made with newfound friends from what seems to me now is a different world altogether. Two warm, funny, genuine, intelligent and insanely witty boys who brought a little sunshine, a little hope and a lot of laughs into a weekend. Sunshine and laughs because it was a pleasure spending time with them. Hope, because they are, as one remarked, a dying breed-- gentlemen, and truly good, wonderful folk. Girls can usually tell.
And as I woke this morning, knowing they'd gone back to where they came from, where they belong, in spite of myself, I feel like I miss old friends. Sometimes you connect with people, you share a wavelength and you think that's all there is to it. Sure, it happens, perhaps more often than you think. But when they're gone you realise, that to do so even when you're from two entirely different parts of the world, from cultures that differ so vastly from one another, it's a much more beautiful thing.
And sometimes there's more magic in the fairytale than you bargained for. In a style true to myself, I embarrassed myself twice in the same evening, which most people will admit is a hard thing to do, even once. But maybe the slip (literally and figuratively) wasn't so bad. I got to kiss and hold and dance (albeit embarrassedly) with a boy who, within 24 hours proved to be a real gem of a person. In all my time in this country, I haven't met a single bloke who I could laugh with, talk to, and enjoy doing so without worrying whether I would be expected to go to bed with him.
This weekend was a fairytale. If I remember correctly, it started with me asking for the time at the concert. What followed was a magic and madness. Laughter and learning. Dancing, singing, handstands on grassy patches, and running after buses. Kissing a wonderful stranger and making new friends. In the end, the fairytale was, as all fairytales are- unexpected, beautiful, a wonderful story to share, an experience to speak of. This one has a bittersweet ending, but oh well, what fairytales do best is give you what you most need.
Hope.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Birthday Blues
It's 12:00 am on the seventh of September, 2009. I have never felt so far away from everything I know and love and hold dear in this world. I check my FB for messages and keep refreshing my gmail in the hope that some one will remember. My phone is next to me, silent and still, screensaver intact. Not a single message, not a single call.
Today I feel forgotten. Like driftwood that's found its way into an ocean where nobody remembers where it came from, where it belongs. I know that I am loved, and that I am remembered and nobody has really forgotten. But life is all about the where and when. Timing is everything. It's why we call people when we know they are sick, upset, or to share in their joy. It's why we celebrate a certain day and it's why we say and do things as we are supposed to. It's why, when the timing isn't right, when we miss a big moment, we feel bad about ourselves.
This time last year I had my favourite people around me. Song and dance and joy and the silly dreams of a 21 year old. One year on, I feel too grown up, less like a child and more like an adult. The girl seems to have died and the woman is unsure and undecided. In one year, too much has happened, and much too soon.
One year on, and the first year without you. I could have expected a card. Maybe a funny email with a few laughs. This year I am reminded to be lucky enough to have got through another year in life. All in all, since I know two people who didn't live to see another year go by, I am grateful to be alive.
So on the seventh of September, 2009, I lie here on my 22nd birthday, with the internet and Grey's Anatomy for company- a little lost, a little forgotten and one year older.
Today I feel forgotten. Like driftwood that's found its way into an ocean where nobody remembers where it came from, where it belongs. I know that I am loved, and that I am remembered and nobody has really forgotten. But life is all about the where and when. Timing is everything. It's why we call people when we know they are sick, upset, or to share in their joy. It's why we celebrate a certain day and it's why we say and do things as we are supposed to. It's why, when the timing isn't right, when we miss a big moment, we feel bad about ourselves.
This time last year I had my favourite people around me. Song and dance and joy and the silly dreams of a 21 year old. One year on, I feel too grown up, less like a child and more like an adult. The girl seems to have died and the woman is unsure and undecided. In one year, too much has happened, and much too soon.
One year on, and the first year without you. I could have expected a card. Maybe a funny email with a few laughs. This year I am reminded to be lucky enough to have got through another year in life. All in all, since I know two people who didn't live to see another year go by, I am grateful to be alive.
So on the seventh of September, 2009, I lie here on my 22nd birthday, with the internet and Grey's Anatomy for company- a little lost, a little forgotten and one year older.
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