How it feels

by Ola

I forgot how it feels.

That feeling, of being held in your arms, in the warmth of summer nights.

I remember the soothing darkness and the chirping cicadas right outside the open window. I remember your struggle against the mosquito net, which kept on slipping from the window frame. I remember my sorry attempt to keep from laughing, to avoid bruising your pride, then finally handing you a stapler, to pine the net against the wooden frame. I remember your quick thank-you kiss. I remember that room, barely the size of a closet, actually serving as one, filled with winter clothes… and our mattress. I remember lying down, wriggling under the light blanket, more out of habit than any real need. I remember the far away hum of the cars speeding by on the highway, and the louder hiss of commercial trucks. I remember your hand, on the small of my back, keeping me close to you, and your good-night kisses, butterfly caresses on my face. I remember entwining our fingers, holding hands throughout the night, to wake up, still together, to your happy smile.

You always smiled. I remember you did.

But the image of those smiles slowly fades with every day that you are gone. The image of your beautiful green eyes, with their little laugh-wrinkles… it all fades, no matter how much I think of you, and try to remember. No matter how much I try to remember, it all fades away. And I grasp at ghostly figments of my imagination, trying to give them your likeness, trying to give them life. But they too, slowly fade, to leave me with eternal darkness, and the feeling of loss. The feeling of having lost you.

So will you come back? Will you come back, out of the fog? Will you let me remember your eyes and your face? Will you let me remember that feeling?

That feeling, of being held in your arms, in the warmth of summer nights?

-A really short little piece. Inspiration struck one night, while I was lying in my bed, in the dark, trying to fall asleep. Of course, when those first two sentences wrapped themselves around my mind, I had to jump out from under the covers, brave the cold air, and jot them down on a piece of paper before sleep finally came. A few weeks later, I finally sat down and wrote something to go with those sentences.

-Dedicated to a wonderful friend of mine, who, by coincidence, in his shaky English, always said “a friend of me” :) love you sweetie.