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Only A Memory
At the time when the river separates from the ocean, trees are in bloom and flowers are glistening. The wind passed the fall leaves through the mountains in the distance, so you can just see the green grass again. The birds were louder than the silenced bell at the port for the newly built ships. There will no longer be a purpose for it, because the only time for fog will be in the earliest of morning.
I was in love with the stranger at my front door. His smile glistened like the river. The only problem was that I had not met this pure gentleman yet. Standing at his feet with a cement door between us, I had to make him notice me. I screamed my hello to this man; his face looked questioned to my excitement. He gazed upon my person with his pearl blue eyes, which shimmered like the diamond on my chain. I felt like he was reading me, like I read my books in the wintertime, when the snow is falling from the imprisoned sun hiding behind the clouds; one book after another, he was reading my mind page after page.
This gentleman greeted me with a nod, and asked to come in. He noticed the bookshelves in the corner of the room, in which we were standing. I was once told that one significant page would make the rest of the story not matter. This single page would stand out, like a lost child looking for their mother in the streets. He asked me if I was a writer, and I replied with a delicate smirk. No one had ever read or even touched my books other than myself. With his graceful hands, he reached for one of the smallest books. Of course I didn’t want him to read it, but there was something stopping me from taking it out of his palms. He read just one page, and then another. Nervously standing there watching him, I noticed a gleam of light shining on his face. He looked up and smiled at me, and told me that he had never read something so amazing. I was a little embarrassed from the fact that I never wanted him to read anything from my shelves in the first place. Before I knew it, we were sitting and laughing with each other over a cup of tea. When the sun unexpectedly fell from the sky; he left out the door, and was on his way home.
I awoke the next day, only to find that my dreams were filled with an undecided love for this man I had only just met. My brain was wrapped around his passion for what I admired. He loved my books, and I wish that wasn’t the reason why I had that uncontrollable affection for him. His laughter and smile will never leave my sight. I will never forget him. I can still feel his hand touch mine, for it was only last night when it actually did. I felt the need to stay inside for the rest of the daylight hours. As I read the same book over and over, which I never normally do, I began to wonder if last night happened, or if he felt the same as I did. I forced myself to write one sentence to try to forget this man. Without realizing, I was writing pages and pages of a love that I didn’t recognize. I couldn’t’t stop saying it over and over again, I loved him. People always told me that you could never love somebody that you had just met but, that wasn’t the case. I knew that in my unsealed heart I had the emotions that he wanted me to have for him.
Knowing that I would probably never see this man again brought shattered tears to my eyes. But somehow being even the slightest of heartbroken did not make my emotions change for him.
Deep down he would always be there, not in person but in memory. My heart would play tricks on me every now and then, which didn’t amuse me. Thoughts of him would appear in my deepest dreams. I was angry because I had no control of what would happen when I fell asleep. I didn’t want to think of him again, but my memories were too strong to overtake. That fact did not excite me at all, but what could I do? He didn’t give any sort of information to me. He was my ecstasy, and I was relapsing to his company. Maybe he didn’t find me as intriguing as I thought of him, because you thought he would’ve come back to me. I wish that had come true but, Cinderella’s godmother would not be visiting me anytime soon. My life was not written by the Grimm brothers, so my ending wouldn’t’t be as happy as the book would’ve intended it to be. That was my choice, love and happiness would no longer be a chapter in my life story. Just because I was a writer, it doesn’t mean that I can write my own life. If only he was here to help me, so I can write it.
The only thing I am really able to do, is to forget about what happened in the past. He wasn’t coming back to find me. But everyday I’m sitting at the window watching the outside world pass me by, just waiting and hoping that I may just happen to catch a glimpse of his face again. My memories of him are starting to fade; I don’t want them to. All I had left to do is to write. What used to be passionate and full of spirit are now pages full of white; as white as the fragile swan that sleeps on the glistening water. With what I could remember, I didn’t like the whiteness.
I couldn’t just lay around for the rest of my days. I got up and walked toward my bookshelves. Only to realize that I had grasped the same book that had been read only a one day ago. I could feel where he placed his finicky hand. I placed the book close to my nose; I could still smell him. He smelt as my father did when he came back from a walk in the park nearby. The smell of the wet grass would sit in his hair for the rest of the day. That smell brought back more memories than ever before. Maybe the memories I was keeping, were meant to stay with me. I wasn’t able to throw them away before, what makes me think I would be able to now? I needed to write something before my mind drew a blank. Maybe taking a stroll and breathing in the soft breeze whistling by will help me think of something to write about.
I walked by every person that lived nearby, and did not succeed in finding what I was looking for. Even the freshly grown flowers in the park did not amaze me. It felt hopeless to keep searching because I didn’t know what I was looking for. Every thought that went through me always reminded me of him. He was something I could not ever leave behind me. As I started to take the path home, I took a seat on one of the benches across from the river. I found myself dosing off in the sight of the mid-day sun. I knew that would dream of what I dreamt before. It was always going to be about the gentleman that once stood on my doorstep. When I awoke from my daydream, I noticed things going on around me. People were in love, and I was alone on a bench. That feeling made me sick to my stomach. I felt my heart rush up my esophagus as if I could see it in the back of my throat.
The pounding from the brokenness sent shivers through the vents of my skin. I need to get home before I sadden myself even more. I stood up and started walking back home. I stumbled on an uneven piece of concrete at my feet, and dropped my writing pad. I had no choice but to stop in the midst of the walking traffic to pick it up. I kneeled down and clutched the sides of the pad. I gazed at the concrete in front of me, and saw a shadowed figure. I stood up to the most amazing sight that could ever be. I would not be in the state of depression. I was Cinderella after all. I regained my standing position, and strengthened my sight to see what was right in front of me. The pure gentleman I had been searching for was once again in my reach.
I was so in love with him. Every breath belonged to him. I never picked up my pen to write such unworthy thoughts. My once empty notepad would never be so bare. My mind was blocked by the sight of his pale skin.
The view of his soft lips was constantly there. That was just my invisible conscience. It kept forcing my mind to remember why I was so in love. The gentle breeze around my hair. While laying on a blanket on the fresh spring grass; he was always beside me. He promised to never leave my right side, but that was ten years ago. He slid out of my palms for the slightest of
seconds; he never regained strength. Like the welting tulips grazing along my fingertips. I thought too much of it. Unlike the gentle simplicity of the tulip, he would never return. Somehow I didn't believe the story, my
story. If his sun had set, then so had mine. This torturous event might as well kill me aswell. I have nothing left to write. My soul left with his.
To somehow set aside my grief I took a quiet walk. To where we had last had met. I sat on the bench where he took my breath away for the first time. I closed my eyes and could still see his shadow in front of me. When I
opened them; there was nothing but air. As I sat for minutes, a child ran quickly towards me. He handed me a letter. I started to walk back home as I read.
My dearest Love:
Please forgive me, for I never meant to destroy your passion; your soul. Know that when we first met, I never wanted to look away from you. I loved you the second I walked on your doorstep, and wherever I may be, I still do. No matter what happens, there is one thing you need to do for me. Write. Finish a book; write a page, it does not matter as long as you keep doing what you truly love. As for me my life will continue on. What happened a decade ago was for your safety. Your heart was in danger. I just hope you now, that you have not forgotten me. For one day we will meet for the first time once again.
My deepest love”
I didn't know, nor understand what I had just read. "He protected my heart with a seal." That was the final set of words along the bottom of the once bare page. I was startled. There was a quiet but intended knock on my door. I never expected any visitors that day, as I haven't for quite some time now. I reached towards the door handle with caution. The squeal of the door ran up and down my spine. My eyes froze. It was him. He was mine at last.