Sunday, November 23, 2008

Moving

Every time, we drove up the hill, Mum made a point of driving past this one house. It looked like something out of pride and prejudice, with a gliding yard that curled into a orchard at the edge of a cemetery. It is quiet there. The house up the hill is one of the only houses we would ever consider as an alternative to the house we live in now. Which is why it is really weird that it went up for sale, last month. Even more strange, was my parent's reaction to this oddly palpable possibility. They both knew, what with the approaching holiday season and our seemingly endless obligations, that this was going to be a busy few months. And yet, despite the logic of staying in our already comfortable home, they started making preparations, meeting with real estate agents. My siblings and I would have two acres to run and laugh and pretend on. There was a barn in the back. And trees. A whole forest of trees. And maybe the house would smell of the smoke the previous owners left behind, and maybe there would be more painting to be done. Maybe there is anger in that house, and carpet again. But you don't dream about something for nothing, do you?
After all of my parents hard work, I'm happy to announce that we will be moving into our new home on December 8th 2008.
I'm so excited.

Saturday, November 01, 2008

The girl who listens

The room is green. And she has headphones on. When she listens, she thinks to herself, someday, I'm going to write a song like this. And it will be beautiful and I won't have to carry around the meaning of it anymore. She listens.

"Be my friend. Hold me."

She knows she is tired. That it's probably the lack of sleep that is making her sad. But this acknowledgement of reality, however acurate, doesn't do much to remedy the situation. The song comes to an end and she puts it on repeat. She feels her eyes filling up, again. She sucks in breath and says to herself, No, you are not going to cry. You are going to get up and go be happy. You are not going to think about a boy walking down the street in the rain. You are not going to think about the things that you would say, the words that line up in your head, impatient. You are not going to think about what you are missing. About what you failed to do.

"I have done it again. I have been here many times before."

Even though she is only thinking to herself, she still feels embarrassed for being so dramatic. But then again, she reasons, love is supposed to be embarassing. Especially when it sneaks up on you and you remember again. Because now, she remembers what it is like to love his hands and to laugh without obligation. I sound silly, she thinks. But that's alright.

"Lost myself again. And I feel unsafe"

She goes back to listening. She sees that face in her head, the one she thought she couldn't remember and this time she lets herself cry.

Someday she will write a song about it, and everything will be okay.