As kids, we extended our hands to that plastic box of crayons located at the middle of the round table we shared. And we drew that house. Everyone knew of it, for in our small minds, that was it. Triangular rooftop in red. Brown squared front. A rectangular door in the middle, and two squared windows with a cross inside. In Kindergarten, that was home. That was our home, every single one of us.
Now, as I stand here with my graduation gown and university degree, I realize, I can no longer hold a crayon, and home doesn’t fit on paper. Home was embedded and woven so precisely, in those four years I’ve spent in this place. Home is that girl sitting amongst the crowds clapping vigorously for me; pride hanging like an aura around her. Home is that classroom over there, overflowing with ideas, opinions, theories, clashes, and answers that are strung together in my head, offering me an exceptional glimpse into a world only I know of. Home is that professor over there, who with his unyielding passion, showed me that creativity was a necessity not a choice. Amongst everything, Home are those hearts that subtly became one; those friendships that made me believe in the possibility of a ‘beautiful world’; those beings who never flinched, never doubted, never strayed; whether I was intact or in pieces.
For here, I’ve loved too much, and I dreamed, too much. I’ve seen the beauty and the tragedy of human nature with all its shades. Here was the place, where my words became a proof of a once-upon-a-time solid existence; where my ideas were built upon, talked about, and handed over. Here was the place where I felt it all. The gap between 17 and 21, right and wrong, extreme hate to ultimate attachment.
Maybe that’s why I ache now, maybe that’s why it’s hard to step out of the water.
But there’s more out there, so much more. And my greed has no limits nor outlines.
And this home?
It’s permanent as long as I am.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Monday, June 07, 2010
In her loving memory,
The invisible camera was dangling off her limp neck. She stood there, right in front of them, a shadow of a ghost stealing glimpses of what could’ve been. They were playing charades, impersonating their favorite cartoon characters; and that innocent laughter almost made her lifeless heart beat. How much they’ve grown. No longer crawling, no longer teething, no longer drawing crooked alphabetical shapes on walls, no. They were beautiful, well-grown individuals now. She looked at Fay, who was lying on the carpet, acting out a scene from Sponge Bob Square pants. When she last saw her, she was barely six. A little girl, with glitter on her nails and butterflies tucked in her braids. She was a fragile being, that girl; too afraid, too cautious, with eyes always filled with unshed tears threatening to fall.
But this girl on the carpet is almost 10 years old. Her voice; radiant with confidence. Her laughter; shook the room to its core. Her beautiful eyes glistened with enthusiasm, with joy, with life.
It could’ve taken her breath away, if she wasn’t already: a breathless ghost.
She looked at Mayed,
Standing tall, with a giggling smile, that reminded her of summer days. That boy who knocked on doors before entering; who hid chocolate bars at every corner. She remembered how his pockets were always overflowing with gum wrappers and how his heart contained the world. How he’ve grown, how he became. How articulate were those sentences he uttered, and how poetic was that laugh. Her knees felt weak, and her fingers could almost trace his face.
And then there was Haloka and Mais, or so she used to call them. Huddled in the corner, absorbed in their own version of the game. Their voices, thick with liveliness, trying to fit everything that needed to be said.
She’ve last seen them communicating with singular words; random shreds of childish thoughts. But now, their conversations were sentences, a beginning to an end and an end to a beginning. She broke to pieces at that sight, at the cruelty of life, and how it snatched all this away, or she was the one that had been snatched too soon. She would never be part of this again, they were merely people in somebody else’s story now, not hers, and never will be. All she could do, was raise that mental camera she held onto so tightly, and take a photograph of that beautiful but heart wrenching reality.
CLICK.
And she dissipated into the nothingness she thought she became.
Only she didn’t know, that she was right there, in each and every one of them.
"And if you were with me tonight,
I'd sing to you just one more time.
A song for a heart so big,
god couldn't let it live. "
Posted by Diddlina at 10:53 AM 1 comments