The Past

I was going through alot of my old journal entries from many years ago when I used to write online. I found one particular entry that I'm especially fond of. Enjoy.
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November 12th, 2001
I remember running through the wet grass, falling a step behind...
It's not so rosy. I don't think it ever has been. Not really. The glasses quite adeptly colour you so prettily, but we can all see right through you. We can see through me. I am not happy. Have I ever been? Yes, wearing those glasses that colour you so prettily. Does that make sense? Do I? Don't worry. It's not important. At least, not to you. It is to me. You don't have a clue what I'm talking about, do you? It's ok. You don't need to know. Not yet, anyway. It's not quite time, is it?

I wash the glasses in the sink. They're not made of glass though. They're plastic. Clear and purple, depending on which colour I chose this morning, to have my juice in. At least, I would have chosen one if I had some juice to drink. At least, that pours out of a bottle. I have little juice containers - you know the ones, the ones with the plastic straws that you put into the hole in the top. It's not good juice, anyway. It has added calcium in it. It tastes strange. Not what I like; not what I am used to.

But I washed them anyway because they were in the sink. Driblets of milk still in them. Dirty dishwater covered the pots and pans from last night's dinner. Juices from the fat, tender pork chops. Oh, it was good. Fries on the side. A spoonful of beans. Though, I don't eat beans, so I didn't have them. It was still good. A can of soda. The water ran down off the can and pooled onto the glass table top. Another mess to clean up.

Silver cutlery fades with time, much like the memories of long ago, much like the thoughts of yesterday. I don't know what my thoughts were yesterday. Not coherently. I know I must have thought I was tired at some point, because I went to sleep. My shoulders ache today. I remember my feet ached yesterday. They're fine now, today. I'm not sick though. Yesterdays thoughts and memories don't really mean much - if they did, wouldn't I remember them? Wouldn't you remember them? Do you?

I miss my family. Christmas is coming. It's almost been 1 year since I've seen them. On the 22nd of this month, it will have been 1 month since I boarded that jet: ultimate destination Brisbane, Queensland. My ears popped alot on the flight. I think I slept too. It's easier to sleep when someone is beside you [didn't you say that?] even on a plane. My feet weren't so cold then, either. I think I had thick socks on. I would have had to, since it was snowing the day the plane left. Coincidentally, it was snowing and sleeting the day the plane touched back down on US soil to return me here. I remember the stewardesses [do we even call them that these days?] being very friendly. She kept asking, "Want juice guys?" as though she really cared whether or not we all dehydrated. I think she did care. Her male counterparts didn't, however.

I cried, you know. I almost didn't see her. I walked right past her. But I turned around, and there she was. Ultimately radiant and inequivocably beautiful, as always. She had tears in her eyes, too. I remember gasping in relief, covering my mouth with my hand and going into her embrace with tears streaming down my face. I think I may have a left a smallish wet patch on her tshirt. It was hot that day, so she had to wear a tshirt. But she was still beautiful.

And, I cried again. More than the first time we said goodbye. I held onto her for dear life. I didn't want to let her go. I was shaking so badly. Again, I was leaving her. I boarded the plane - ultimate destination: JFK, New York. I didn't tell her I loved her before I left, and I cried harder for it. The tears lasted the entire trip to LA.

It's amazing what you remember when you're washing clear and purple plastic cups