you don’t miss your water.
I was looking in the drawer filled with old letters, cards and all my journals. Some of these letters date back to 1994. I was looking for a particular card given to me because in it contained a very beautiful but cryptic poem, once written for me. It wasn’t for nostalgia’s sakes that I started searching; I merely wanted a re-read of the poem because I always thought it lovely. Instead, I found a huge black plastic bag containing all your old letters, cards, photos, receipts, concert tickets. Four things in particular made me cry.
One. My 19th birthday card. It wrote, When I met you, I had no idea how much my life was about to be changed… but then, how could I have known? A love like ours happens once in a lifetime. It does, it always will. To date, there is no other memory that leaves me with a feeling so bittersweet, that brings me to tears almost instantly, and breaks my heart upon realizing that perhaps, our time has come and gone.
Two. An eight- page letter that you wrote me on our 6th month anniversary. You listed almost every special experience we shared together- our first hair dying session, you teaching me to ice skate, you teaching me to play pool, our resort holiday, your birthday, runway cycling, etc. it was overwhelming re-reading those. Because I never thought I could remember everything this clearly.
Three. A day-to -day analysis of our activities in the month of march. That was even more overwhelming because it was almost like a daily journaling of everything we did- from details to what we quarreled about, to what time we met for macs breakfast, to what time you left to tuition your kids, and bigger things like the stayover at your place. You know what astounded me the most? We met every single day in that month from the 12th onwards.
Four. A poem you wrote in may. Reading it now, I’m not sure if I was meant to have this. I can’t imagine why you would want me to keep something as sad as this. But the poem ended with this, Wonder if I can give her enough/ thinking: who’s the next boy that she will love. You signed off at 8.18pm.
I think every girl remembers two loves in her life with much poignancy- her first puppy love; most if not all of those memories feel distant and detached now, but extremely happy and innocuous nonetheless, because one could deal with pain without too many buckets of tears shed at such a tender age when our attention was easily diverted to frivolous little things. And second, her first true love- one defined by intensity, passion, romance, idealism, fear of loss, possession, “super duo needing no one but themselves”, and eventually a deep heartache caused by its loss.
You don’t miss your water till the well runs dry. You’ve always loved that song.
I was looking in the drawer filled with old letters, cards and all my journals. Some of these letters date back to 1994. I was looking for a particular card given to me because in it contained a very beautiful but cryptic poem, once written for me. It wasn’t for nostalgia’s sakes that I started searching; I merely wanted a re-read of the poem because I always thought it lovely. Instead, I found a huge black plastic bag containing all your old letters, cards, photos, receipts, concert tickets. Four things in particular made me cry.
One. My 19th birthday card. It wrote, When I met you, I had no idea how much my life was about to be changed… but then, how could I have known? A love like ours happens once in a lifetime. It does, it always will. To date, there is no other memory that leaves me with a feeling so bittersweet, that brings me to tears almost instantly, and breaks my heart upon realizing that perhaps, our time has come and gone.
Two. An eight- page letter that you wrote me on our 6th month anniversary. You listed almost every special experience we shared together- our first hair dying session, you teaching me to ice skate, you teaching me to play pool, our resort holiday, your birthday, runway cycling, etc. it was overwhelming re-reading those. Because I never thought I could remember everything this clearly.
Three. A day-to -day analysis of our activities in the month of march. That was even more overwhelming because it was almost like a daily journaling of everything we did- from details to what we quarreled about, to what time we met for macs breakfast, to what time you left to tuition your kids, and bigger things like the stayover at your place. You know what astounded me the most? We met every single day in that month from the 12th onwards.
Four. A poem you wrote in may. Reading it now, I’m not sure if I was meant to have this. I can’t imagine why you would want me to keep something as sad as this. But the poem ended with this, Wonder if I can give her enough/ thinking: who’s the next boy that she will love. You signed off at 8.18pm.
I think every girl remembers two loves in her life with much poignancy- her first puppy love; most if not all of those memories feel distant and detached now, but extremely happy and innocuous nonetheless, because one could deal with pain without too many buckets of tears shed at such a tender age when our attention was easily diverted to frivolous little things. And second, her first true love- one defined by intensity, passion, romance, idealism, fear of loss, possession, “super duo needing no one but themselves”, and eventually a deep heartache caused by its loss.
You don’t miss your water till the well runs dry. You’ve always loved that song.
posted by voyeur at 4:56 AM
1 Comments:
sigh now you've made me think of my first true love. bittersweet indeed.
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