My refrigerator is a mess. It's almost been eleven months since I bought the cheese, almost nine since it expired, almost seven since you died. The cheese for the Paprika Pie, you were supposed to teach me how to bake. It doesn't stink, you know. It's just there, wrapped in plastic, 'authentic greek Feta'. I just don't have the heart to throw it out, and so it stays.
It's almost frustrating how your death affects me. In the most mundane of things, the shattering finality of it. The stabbing invasiveness in every moment I experience, the beautiful ones, the tragic ones, every place I go to. You will have none of that, nothing. Every future photograph will find you missing.
But today's about cheese. While I'm away at work, my roommate decides to clean the refrigerator. When I return home, I find the cheese in the garbage. 'You...', I say dumbly, 'you... threw the cheese...' 'Yes, duh!' comes the almost irritated reply, 'Do you NOT look at the expiry dates or what!'
And in the shaping of serendipity the shifts are subtle, in the way breaths align themselves onto a script, seldom read, unburdened by an audience. A trip here, a gasp there. Music, like a baby fairy just learning to walk let loose on a piano. Music, unhinged from the chains of rhythm. Ridiculous, but free. How beautiful to be a part of it at all, even in the ignorance of it. How beautiful, to just breathe...
It didn't matter That I wanted A book on My seventh birthday Father had never Let me down Before but he Looked at me With despairing eyes Before his voice Dropped to a Whisper as he Said "Sorry kid I can't do it Someday you'll understand" I cried that Night, and didn't Talk to him For the next Two days.
Five years later My little sister Came upto me In a crowded Hospital waiting room And asked me What was wrong With our father She wanted to Know why he Didn't play hopscotch With her anymore And my eyes Flashed back to The day of My seventh birthday "Someday you'll Understand", my Sister fought back Tears as I Gave her an Ice cream to Calm her down.
Fifteen years on A Mercedes crashes Into an abandoned Parking lot, while Going at 120 Miles per hour My nephew waits Near another hospital Bed, and asks My sister "Mummy, Can people live After losing so Much blood?" I lock eyes With her, and We both end Up speaking at The same time "Someday kid You'll understand."
So the words of today's challenge hosted by @carolyns_challenge_account are Charisma, rhapsody, sonorous, elegiac, inamorata, saudade, paradigm, duplicitous, compendium, diatribe, sojourn, malady, lovelorn, penumbra, multitudinous
And I have also thrown in #desolate which is today's word of the day by @mirakee. Now that's a helluva lot of words tugging at my mental muscles! But stretching them was fun...
Our last kiss was like a Boeing 737 meeting another face to face Lighting up the sky like Hindenburg did In its last flight. and the humans abandoned it forever. Because you see, we humans Can't afford flaws. And the left ones look like, The first draft of a heart broken poet, The streets of Kolkata Sliced by tram lines, An evening sky, Not the one that you see from a beach But the one, that you see through the gaps Of tin sheds and electric wires, from a slum. The left ones look like- Airport kisses, where the lips cherish the present and the heart wanders in the uncertainty of the future. Or like a blind follower of Nietzsche Standing at the slopes of Vesuvius. Like mother's food in your throat And a broken heart in your chest, Neither can you spit nor can you swallow. Or like someone who had slept with 18 persons on 18 different nights But felt only his lost home 18 times. Or like remnants of History Kept carefully in museums, Craving to die with the rest of the past. For the left ones have no names, They are just numbers, casualties in a war Called love.
You, I must Admit, are quite Terrible at geography All the maps You have drawn For me have Led me to Cul de sacs All those arrows You painted made Me end up In cities, I Never wanted to Visit, all the Roads I never Wanted to walk Upon, but ended Up falling in Love with them All the same.
But did you Not make memories All the strangers You ended up Making love to, The rooftops you Stood on, spilling Your secrets at The stroke of The midnight hour And all the Maps I drew Did end up Leading you back To my arms Did it not?
I can't run to you, little one, you can't hear the wailing in my words, this desperation in distance. All the miles my feet have known may not be enough to save you. I realise different men are made of different things. I just want more than anything to protect the ones I love. I hear my voice in the past like a blade against my mother's skin when I tell her I don't need saving, her helplessness in me walking towards my demise. I feel the same now, and I can hope, just hope, you make it through, you find happiness, that you do not suffer the way I suffered. That your growth does not come at the cost of tragedy. I can only do what my mother did for me, I will stand by you. Always. Always. Always. I promise.