I'm not sure about a beginning or an end.
I remember the day I became aware of your existence.
It was a Tuesday, I remember, and I was washing the dishes in my little yellow sink by the window. The wind was blowing, and a leaf was stuck to the pane. I felt bad for it, watched as the wind tried to rip it away and free it from the glass. I felt nauseous. I remember thinking how insane I was, to feel nauseous about a leaf trapped against my window, until I realized that my nausea was not fading and that it was definitely not linked in any way to the lone leaf.
I knew. I just knew it was you.
I think the love began when I first fantasized about you.
When I first pictured your face, your smell and the feel of your skin in my arms. The thought of you, although microscopic, made me blush. You were like a storybook character that I could picture perfectly in my head, but not the kind that I would be disappointed to see in a movie. When I would see you, you would be exactly the way you should be.
And I felt like those crazy ladies who spend their entire lives waiting for their knight in shining armor to show up, those pathetic people who waste time thinking about people they wish would love them back.
Truth was, I had no idea if you would love me as much as I still love you.
It was like a countdown to New Year's, one of those things you mark on your calendar, an event I had no plausible choice but to attend. I would wait until the very last possible second, hold my breath and wait for you to show your face at last.
I remember the day I held you for the first time.
I'll remember the smell of your hair until I die. I will remember kissing your toes, and the giggles that would follow. I remember the sound of your voice waking me in the night. All I could do now is watch you grow.
I remember the day you ceased believing in my existence.
The day you brought home that boy with the piercings and the leather jacket. The day I walked in on you smoking a joint out your window. I remember the names you called me, the fights and the day you told me you were leaving me.
I remember not getting that phone call from you on my birthday.
I suppose that in the end, I am one of those crazy ladies who hold onto faded photographs and sit by the telephone. An old lady with only one thought on her mind...
those toe kisses, and the giggles we had.
I remember the day I became aware of your existence.
It was a Tuesday, I remember, and I was washing the dishes in my little yellow sink by the window. The wind was blowing, and a leaf was stuck to the pane. I felt bad for it, watched as the wind tried to rip it away and free it from the glass. I felt nauseous. I remember thinking how insane I was, to feel nauseous about a leaf trapped against my window, until I realized that my nausea was not fading and that it was definitely not linked in any way to the lone leaf.
I knew. I just knew it was you.
I think the love began when I first fantasized about you.
When I first pictured your face, your smell and the feel of your skin in my arms. The thought of you, although microscopic, made me blush. You were like a storybook character that I could picture perfectly in my head, but not the kind that I would be disappointed to see in a movie. When I would see you, you would be exactly the way you should be.
And I felt like those crazy ladies who spend their entire lives waiting for their knight in shining armor to show up, those pathetic people who waste time thinking about people they wish would love them back.
Truth was, I had no idea if you would love me as much as I still love you.
It was like a countdown to New Year's, one of those things you mark on your calendar, an event I had no plausible choice but to attend. I would wait until the very last possible second, hold my breath and wait for you to show your face at last.
I remember the day I held you for the first time.
I'll remember the smell of your hair until I die. I will remember kissing your toes, and the giggles that would follow. I remember the sound of your voice waking me in the night. All I could do now is watch you grow.
I remember the day you ceased believing in my existence.
The day you brought home that boy with the piercings and the leather jacket. The day I walked in on you smoking a joint out your window. I remember the names you called me, the fights and the day you told me you were leaving me.
I remember not getting that phone call from you on my birthday.
I suppose that in the end, I am one of those crazy ladies who hold onto faded photographs and sit by the telephone. An old lady with only one thought on her mind...
those toe kisses, and the giggles we had.
3 comments:
Christ... that was a beautiful story that turned really depressing really fast. have you ever read any Diane Diprima? you would love her. she talks a lot about stuff like this
This was really beautiful, and really sad...
This was incredibly beautiful, and also sad.
Post a Comment