Today I remembered a place where I used to live. I remembered streets I used to know, but no longer do; the faint glimmer of the smell and sounds of its jungles, alleyways and foods filled my senses. For a brief moment, my body relived the pressure that could be exuded on it when I'd fully take in all the buildings, the advertisements swirling all around in unrecognizable characters, the people-choked streets and sidewalks, the blazing lights from every-which-way at night, the bricks of humidity over the water and in my skin on a particularly oppressive day. All these feelings, half there for an instant, then gone once more, lost to years of distance and the now.
I remember the important relationships I had in this space well. Today, some more than others, were particularly present. I am lucky enough to have had friendships so strong that they continue up to this moment. Today I remembered a friend I didn't get to say goodbye to. I remembered her hands, her smile, and her tongue, the curve of her waist and the texture of her hair. Most importantly, I remembered her eyes. I felt like I was looking into the shape and colour of her eyes in an important way for the first time in a long while today. I remembered how light my body would feel when we'd make each other laugh, when things felt close. I also realised I couldn't remember the details of things like her fingertips or her shoulders. And then, just as with the space we shared our friendship in, the feeling left me before it even truly began.
Today I remembered friends I chose not to say goodbye to. Out there, in the great, big, wide, open world, they could be anywhere doing just about anything. I hope they are stimulated, driven and passionate. I wonder if they wonder about me sometimes. I wonder if they wonder whether or not I'm wondering about them.
I ask myself: if it's important to think about these things; why it matters that these moments of a sort of homesickness overwhelm my space from time to time - if it matters - why it happens. So now I've written about the process of one such occurrence and now I suppose I'll wonder as to the what and why of that as well.
But soon I'll get hungry and make dinner and try to not think about what my heart might be remembering another 6 years from now.
It is what it is, let's just do our best, shall we?
