I think of us sitting next to each other on a tiny balcony overlooking a not-so-great-view, taking in each other’s presence in side way comfort. The kind of comfort you get from knowing there’s no time limit. That it’s there today. That you’ll be there tomorrow. That this belongs to you. That this is forever.
I think of us as if time belongs to us, as if we belong to us. As if we can go back there and sit down whenever we want. And I think of that one dusk so much, I’m not even sure if it’s a dream or wishful thinking or a memory, or a very deliberate plan. One that will never be.
In all this chaos all around me- the yelling, the loveless togetherness, kids and the inevitable doom of failure, work and the thrill of never switching off, bad health- of realizing that our bodies are just not as resilient (I do take some satisfaction in knowing that my body in all its magnificent glory and capacity, goes through its own seasons too, it grieves too, somewhere there’s satisfaction in knowing I have company) …in all this chaos, I take peace in sitting next to you on that balcony- squat on the floor. I can almost feel the damp chill set in slowly. Do you remember me telling you, in my dream, you asked for a blanket?
PS: The plan worked out but the memory is now forever ruined. No blanket can warm what is cold. The dream is broken. I woke up too soon. The kind of broken sleep, where you can’t fall back asleep without the nightmares spreading all over your pillow and all over your night and into the next night and then before you know it, that bed, that room are left unusable. That kind of nightmare. That is why we save as draft; and leave things unsent.
PPS: You hate post-scripts, I know.
Save As Draft 