In my agenda, back in the sunny days of January or perhaps early February I had made an entry for June 19th and it was your name. Just your name, nothing more, as if it were out of question that I would remember the meaning behind that. I am sure there was an important reason for me to do that, a reminder to be extra soft around this time but I can not, for the life of me, remember what it was and my bones are racked with guilt over the fact that I can't remember what this one day could have possibly meant to you. We did not even know whether anything would last this long and sure enough it all faded away with spring, the rains of early June washing away what remained. By now it does not feel like anything more than a passing dream.
I came upon the entry by accident last night, the irony did not escape me, and ever since then I wonder what is the significance of June 19th in between washing the dishes and when I finally managed to find a place to sit on the bus. I wondered again later, while waiting at another stop and tried to work through any possible conversation that I still remember so as to figure it out until a 13 year-old interrupted my thoughts to ask whether she could bum one of the cigarettes I was rolling. I was perplexed over her age but she stayed close and I guiltily rolled one for her. Too young to be addicted to tobacco and I enabled her, what was I thinking?
Another mystery of June 19th it appears. What was I thinking? In fact I was not, instead I reacted out of reflex, I took the route that would lead faster to some semblance of peace, of normality, of quiet.
Naturally, you see, at the end of the day I did not ask you what June 19th meant at all.
I came upon the entry by accident last night, the irony did not escape me, and ever since then I wonder what is the significance of June 19th in between washing the dishes and when I finally managed to find a place to sit on the bus. I wondered again later, while waiting at another stop and tried to work through any possible conversation that I still remember so as to figure it out until a 13 year-old interrupted my thoughts to ask whether she could bum one of the cigarettes I was rolling. I was perplexed over her age but she stayed close and I guiltily rolled one for her. Too young to be addicted to tobacco and I enabled her, what was I thinking?
Another mystery of June 19th it appears. What was I thinking? In fact I was not, instead I reacted out of reflex, I took the route that would lead faster to some semblance of peace, of normality, of quiet.
Naturally, you see, at the end of the day I did not ask you what June 19th meant at all.
Δεν υπάρχουν σχόλια:
Δημοσίευση σχολίου