Beauty Seen is Never Lost

We entered the backyard shed we once knew so well, and starred at the bare walls. Stark white. Calling out to both of us.
We both knew what’s underneath that coat of whiteness, and if it was lifted right there, we would’ve found traces of our past selves starring right back at us. “Remember”, we both said at the same time. His hand was placed on a small part of the wall. Mine was on another. I looked at the man in front of me, with a bittersweet smile. “ Look at us. When did this happen? Where is he? That little boy with pricked ears, who believed in the power of charcoal on empty walls? Who swore that his smudged-drawn ghost could really creep out and sneak under our beds at night? Look at you”. He tucked his hands in his pockets, and smiled weakly. I knew that nervous smile so well. That sad mocking smile, which was immediately followed by a joke. “Always knew how to duck, didn’t you?”
As I looked at the now-barren walls, I couldn’t help but see the “Charcoal ghost” with her wavy black hair, and those mocking slit-eyes. I couldn’t help but see the overlapping misspelled words all around her. VIDYEO. DERHAM. CHEKIN. The long misshaped strands of grass, the circular-shaped birds, the set of happy faces, the tic-tac-toe margins, with a million little I WIN scribbled all over them. And then there was the scent. That scent of earth, that scent of soil and water, of sun-stricken grounds, of heat, of twigs and leaves. It seeped through, that scent, it seeped right through that white coat of paint.
He grabbed the brush, and dipped it deep into the black paint. “ Come on, they’re painting over it tomorrow, aren’t you tempted?” he grinned. The ear-pricked boy, there he was.
I grabbed a brush and headed for the other side of the wall. As I glanced back at him, I saw a glimpse of that wavy black hair. “You’re drawing Charcoal ghost!” My eyes remained fixed on him, his tall figure now couldn’t stoop to the height of “ Charcoal ghost”, his back was almost arched, and his drawing wasn’t crooked anymore. It tucked at my heartstrings, took my breath away, and I wanted to weep right there. Something, about that scene, made me realize the fragility of our world, how easily we’ve let it slip through,
I dipped my brush and on my stark white wall, I sang

“Let’s pretend that we can still pretend
Let's pretend that we are young again
All the old alleys have new little warriors
Our ghosts are finally gone
We nodded off and the world moved on”

Posted by Diddlina at 8:49 AM