At a best friend’s cottage.
I miss you.
But I don’t know
If it’s you,
Or the you I knew years, or even months, before.
Or maybe I’ve changed.
Or both of us have since taking our own risks and choices.
We said we’d keep in touch, but did we?
Every time I see you
A flood of memories flash before my eyes
And then I’m not sure if I’m really seeing you
And I wonder if you get this confused vision too.
Time has a funny way of dividing reality and memory.
Conversations, jokes, games, plain old sitting at the table,
I know you do too,
Because best friends don’t forget that stuff.
Time moves on but we talk of past moments,
Precious but irrelevant to the stories we each write now.
Time has a funny way of dividing people sometimes.
I can see my nostalgic sadness reflected in your eyes.
And somehow our goodbyes
Because forever can last forever in your mind.
Until we meet again,
I just wanted to say that
I miss you.
“I would rather walk with a friend in the dark, than alone in the light.”
*UPDATE: A few weeks after writing this post, I ran into my friend at a ballet awards show. It was a thrilling surprise and we got caught up for a few good hours. Funny how life can offer you the best coincidences… *
Thanks for reading,
There was a smell of Regret in the air tonight. She (Rebecca) smiled and turned the fancy in her mind. There was a thought. What did Regret smell like? Like smoke and rust and cobwebs. And if you wondered what Regret sounded like it sounded like the airy whispers of forgotten ghosts, and crushed bone, and a mirror shattering into a thousand tiny slivers, and silent screams. And, going further, what did Regret look like? Regret looked like dead flies trapped between the glasses of a windowsill or it looked like invisible splinters in the tip of a finger, or a burning piece of crumpled paper slowly engulfed by flames, slowly crumbling into nothing but withered ashes. That was how Regret smelled and looked and sounded. And tonight – Rebecca shoved a hand into the pack of cigarettes – tonight you could almost touch Regret.
(The Streetlight Chronicles)
This was a fill-in-the-blank-type assignment entitled “Is Characterizing Abstract Nouns Personification?” written in 2009. We were inspired to write our own version of the following paragraph written by Ray Bradbury:
There was a smell of Time in the air tonight. He (Tomas) smiled and turned the fancy in his mind. There was a thought. What did Time smell like? Like dust and clocks and people. And if you wondered what Time sounded like it sounded like water running in a dark cave and voices crying and dirt dropping down upon hollow box lids, and rain. And, going further, what did Time look like? Time looked like snow dropping silently into a black room or it looked like a silent film in an ancient theatre, or one hundred billion faces falling like those New Year balloons, down and down into nothing. That was how Time smelled and looked and sounded. And tonight – Tomas shoved his hand into the wind outside the truck – tonight you could almost touch Time.
(Ray Bradbury, The Martian Chronicles)
Thanks for reading,