Thursday, March 29, 2007

and the wind cries her name

At the outset, I would like to state here that this is a piece of creative writing. This is in no way connected to me, may it be personal, causal or incidental.....


When I first met her, she was this giggly little girl barely into her teens. She is my cousin, albeit a distant one and we were both visiting a common relative living in an old creepy house somewhere in the province. The house was so creepy that I stayed outdoors most of the time I was there. I saw her on the pathway or maybe she saw me coming up and that is when I first beheld her lovely eyes. She has this set of dreamy, smiling eyes that always seem to convey mischief and playfulness altogether and yet one can also perceive a certain sadness in them. Age-old sadness is in her soul and in her eyes, but it was veiled in teenage elan and her zest for life.

Then we parted ways.

It is summertime. So many summers have come and gone. My life in all its drudgery seems to pass away swiftly as one summer gradually changes into another season. Summertime always elicits in me an advent of joyous anticipation, like a flowering bud about to bloom under the hot, sultry sky.

Then I met her again.

The house is much creepier this time. I saw her in a room flooded with lights which seem to suggest that all this light is solely for the sake of someone horizontally lying inside a wooden shiny box. It was the wake of our uncle.

She is older, but she still have those dreamy, smiling eyes. I stepped outdoors because the heat inside the room was oppressive and partly of course because of those lights! I saw her on the threshold of a backroom fiddling with her ubiquitous cell phone. I mumbled some pleasantries and she smiled at me. She is aloof or just pretends to be and I could sense that she is just acting out. Then I offhandedly blurted out a charming, witty remark and we both laughed heartily and that broke the ice!

Breaking the ice is an understatement; this is more like an iceberg exploding, for with that one remark, an avalanche of bittersweet memories have since engulfed both of us!

During the course of the passing days, after many messages and calls have been exchanged between us, we decided to meet up in the big city. There will be no more creepy houses as setting for the "play" this time around. Eager with anticipation, the hero awaits the damsel with a keen heart. And there she was, all aglow and a bit slimmer since the last time I saw her but with the same enthusiasm that I likewise held in my heart.

The trip ahead was long and boring but her presence which was so dear and near surely made up for it. In our heart of hearts, we both knew that this thing about to transpire is wrong, so wrong in the eyes of righteous men and women living in this morally upright society. But who are they to judge us? Let those without sin cast the first stone!

I will spare the reader with the nitty-gritty, let him or her imagine with their mind's eye what every man and woman may do if left alone in their mutual passion
held back for so long a time yet is now finally unleashed and afire and the only way to douse it is to do it a second time.

Love in all its glory cannot make up for the momentary guilt one feels when he knew he has done something wrong. However, this was just a fleeting feeling because a lovely dream came true that day, and what can be more important than that? Life is but a collection of myriad experiences for the soul to cherish in its present incarnation, the key is to live and learn. There is no room for guilt and hang-ups but there is always room for giving and receiving love. Unconditional love is the moving force of the universe.

This is the beginning of something which my heart, in its previously cool, contented and apathetic state cannot erase and just consider a fling, but as a continuation of a past long ago forgotten yet embedded and integral in the many lifetimes lived by these two loving souls.

Then we finally said goodbye for the last time.

It can never be. It will never be, not in this lifetime anyway. It tears the heart asunder, it mangles the soul and leaves a scar so deep that it leaves a permanent imprint into one's heart. To love and lost is a trite remark but it is so apt and accurate that to experience such, is to have experienced all.

This is the story so far. It does not have an ending for it never did end, not in my heart and not in hers. It shall go on because as the universe unfolds, so too does every heart that beats as true.


jff/32907




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