Memories, memoirs.

As I lay there on my bed, waiting for sleep to take over me, my thoughts couldn’t help but wander towards that distant yet vivid memory. Working through my thoughts, I could feel that emptiness at the pit of my stomach. The familiar feeling of a knot twisting inside, the gut-wrenching memory attacked me from all sides without warning. But I guess that’s what memories do.

One day can change a lot and leave you with so many unanswered questions for the rest of your lifetime. One day is all it takes and believe me, it was one such fateful day that left me with nothing but bitterness and turned the believer in me into a cynic for the rest of my life.

It was a summer evening- it was hot, hazy and if I remember, humid. I can still recall the smell of fresh earth, men’s cologne and freshly cut grass. We were sitting in the park. Both of us, not looking at each other and barely talking. When did it all come to this? 

With his eyes still on ground, he said, “I think it’s time”. I remember the heaviness in my head. The lightness in his tone. As if this never mattered to him in the first place.  I could feel my heart beating faster, my pulse quickening. “So this is it then?” I whispered faintly, not being able to speak with the same kind of casual carelessness that he displayed. He didn’t look at me. He didn’t speak.

“Walk away, walk away” My mind told me. But my treacherous heart didn’t want to let go. I summoned up the courage to get up. He still didn’t look at me. What was I to do? I stepped on to the pavement. I thought my leaving would elicit some response but I was wrong. Drawing in huge gulps of air, I finally told myself to walk away with dignity. Yes, dignity. Because that was all I had anymore.  And so I walked. He didn’t stop me. So I walked on.

After that day, I never saw him again. He visited me in my dreams, but that was just about all the contact I had with him. I guess these things can hit you hard.

They can bring out sides in you that you never knew existed. They can also bury those parts of you that you would ideally want to hold on to. Sometimes memories that you have swept under the rug can haunt you. But I guess that’s what memories do.