She
had been driving for 2 hours. The body refuses to admit to tiresome when taken
by the enthusiasm of reuniting with old friends. It's been 10 years since they
all got together. Now spread all over the world. Once they were heroes. Once
they were knights. They were going to change the world, she thought to herself,
with a hind of drama and nostalgia.
Now
some have babies, others jobs, were dress codes of ties and formal jackets are
obligatory. She laughed to herself knowing that she could witness the
responsible parent behind the baby and the corporate salesman behind the Armani
suit. Instantly comes into her mind, the image of them drunk, returning home
early morning, screaming songs at the top of their lungs, laughing and doing
all shorts of crazy stuff they did on their nights out.
Its
funny how those people that have witnessed your first clumsy years in the
world, become your closest family, she wondered. A feverish little clod you
were. Believed to be a hero, holding a spear and yelling fearsome accusations
to the world. What was your armour then? Was it your size? No, you are still
infinitesimal! Was it your courage? No you didn't even know if you had courage
yet. Was it youth then? Was it innocence? Oh yes. That’s what it was. Innocence,
how everything tastes like new when you experience it on your own, for the
first time.
The
way you are willing to wake up its morning to see the sunrise and you believe
that you will stick to that commitment for the rest of your life. The way you
give a chance to everything to prove themselves to you, because you have not
decided yet. The way you are open to both joy and pain. Now you turn your eyes
from suffering, you have witnessed too much of it. You know now you are not
immune to it. You are not special, you can be affected by pain and
suffering. So you turn your eyes away when no one else is looking, like
an ostridge that hides its head to the ground. Fear of being devoured by pain
and calamity, turned you into a feverish little clod without an armour on. Ridiculous,
helpless and hiding from the world. Is that all years and experience give up
for exchange of grey hair, just fear then, she wondered.
Long
car drives…always a good excuse for self-critique. But today it should be more
than that. Today she hoped for a time travel. After all they had loads
of stories to tell, so many things to remember. All the adventures,
vacations, extravagant demonstrations of power, the funny moments and the angry
moments and the bad moments. All had changed shape with time, in her mind, they had acquired a graceful shape. It
all felt good, it had all been for a reason
now. A shelter, some comfort on her lonely nights, a good excuse for her
nemesis. Or even a precious book, she’d take down from the bottom self of her
minds library, on those lonely Sunday afternoons when it feels harmless to wet
your toes in the steal waters of Memory
Lake.
It
was not far now. She had a perfect timing. Right when they were finishing
catching up with the present and started reminiscing...They were all there, her
two closest friends, the always noisy yet unofficial head of the gang, the
girls, married now, her first love, his wife expecting a baby. Everyone had
come unattached as promised. Just the group, no wives, babies, boyfriends,
girlfriends. It felt like a screen-writers setup for a proper time travelling
launch...indeed.
No
one cared to ask much about her present once she was there. Secretly, she
thought, they all knew, but did not care
to admit, that they travelled so far for the same reason. To remember and catch
a glimpse of themselves in their youngest, most fearless time. To see
themselves through the eyes of the narrator that bares the burden of the story
through the years, idealizing the characters and the circumstance so, that a
story becoming of a legend comes out of his mouth, to mellow the soul, and
whisper softly in your ear that in your most fearless times your dids were
witnessed by someone. That circle of friends comes together to get high with
memories. Each one, becomes anothers god, through one reminiscent. And this
goes around like a joint or like an Indian pipe to be inhaled and let out,
leaving you intoxicated with contempt.
The
ceremony, as she called it, went on for hours. They had finished almost ten
bottles of wine, burned approximately 3 trees in the fireplace and sacrificed
one and a half pig. Some earth offerings as well, potatoes, vegetables. As per
usual the end of a story telling orgy, leaves one as satisfied as a night of a
heartbroken man in a brothel. There is this emptiness when the past stories are
magnified to the point of legend, and the present or the future , show no
promise.
Left
with a deep sadness of "what now" she went to sleep like everyone
else had. Found herself a good spot in the couch next to two lumps of blanket,
formed by the sleeping bodies. It was not five minutes that she had closen her
eyes, when the blanket lump has turned her way, only to find out that it was
him. Him,once her first love, now a stranger whose wife was expecting their
first child. As he moved her way, a familiar smell ripped through her mind,
after all these years.
It
smelled of late nights out, music and love. The smell reached to the most
remote memory cells, and blasted a feeling of carelessness and happiness. She
felt weightless, gravity had disappeared for a moment, spring and blossoms and
passion and youth. Passing with the speed of light before her eyes, the cd he
gave her that day, his clumsiness the first time they made love, that time he
cooked, coffees and laughs and fightings and endless discussions on sleepless
nights.
As
if the clock had turned 10 years back and stood steal just bellow that blanket she was covered with. She did not resist his hug or attempt to
kiss her. She tried to inhale as much of the memory as she good. Started
sniffing his mouth like a hound. His forehead, his ears, his neck, like a playful
tease before a kiss. The hands remembered their way though the body, the skins
route was familiar. Palms on the cheeks, passing through the hair, low to the
ears, the neck, the shoulders, the arms. Thumbs on the lips. The skin
remembered everything. The odour gave away a hall time of her life, and she was
back at that time.
Frustrated
by all the delay, the first love whispered softly to her ear.
-
I have what you need!
A
damaging noise blocked the intoxicating flow of memories.
She
looked up the strangers face and said:
-
How could you possibly now what I need?
-
You need unattachment. I am attached, I have a family, I cannot smother you
with a relationship and I can offer you some good times without restrains. That's
why you love time travelling to the past so much. You don't want to commit to
the present, or the future.
Behind
the hypocrisy of his offer, the hind of truth in his outspoken grasp of her
needs, made her leave the room saying nothing but
-
I just wanted to smell you, who you were to me, what I 've made of you...Just
smell you.
