Tuesday, May 24, 2011
My goodbye...
“It has been a difficult few days. I went through a box of photos; there are only a few of me, perhaps no more than 20 but each one with its own web of stories. The one who took it and is gone now, the one I was thinking of and is gone now, the one next to me, again in most cases gone.” This, I wrote exactly one year ago.
The photo of me you see in this blog was taken by my friend Lina, in Ostende, on May 1st four years ago. I remember the day clearly; we walked on the beach, a warm and breezy day, had a beautiful lunch, the famous ostende sole and wine, and finally crossed the pier to its very end and she insisted on taking this picture.
Lina is gone now. She died a young woman. We said our goodbyes a few days ago, and I silently promised her to keep our shared thoughts alive, her secrets in a drawer in my memory, her mother in my arms, and her daughter close to me.
It was a strong friendship. It unexpectedly started in 2004. I was new in a grey city, full of technocrats. She was there to make my living easier, and soon enough she became indispensable. We confided each other with the most private secrets, we cried together, laughed, argued, got disappointed and angry with each other, reconciled, supported each other. Everybody knew that they would find us together lunching on Saturdays, talking men and -usually- my affairs of the heart. She was there to console me over an unsuccessful haircut, a bad boyfriend, my financial despairs -a result of reckless, non-programmed living . She was there to hold my hand in the hospital. She put together my Ikea bed and every time I used it more enthusiastically, I would hear the screech coming out of the horizontal bar.
She is gone now and five years of memory are left to me to care for. My five years are gone with her but I trust she will cherish them and she will hopefully keep them secret, not knowing anything of the arrangements over there.
Friday afternoon I will be at the airport, waiting for her, one last time.
P.S. I know you were reading this blog and had your share of questions regarding my cryptic and at times confusing entries. I wish I had told you more about it, and what is hidden behind some of the lines. But I guess you now know it all. And this is the only thing that comforts me, that you now have complete understanding of all that was troubling you, all that were unanswered.
The photo of me you see in this blog was taken by my friend Lina, in Ostende, on May 1st four years ago. I remember the day clearly; we walked on the beach, a warm and breezy day, had a beautiful lunch, the famous ostende sole and wine, and finally crossed the pier to its very end and she insisted on taking this picture.
Lina is gone now. She died a young woman. We said our goodbyes a few days ago, and I silently promised her to keep our shared thoughts alive, her secrets in a drawer in my memory, her mother in my arms, and her daughter close to me.
It was a strong friendship. It unexpectedly started in 2004. I was new in a grey city, full of technocrats. She was there to make my living easier, and soon enough she became indispensable. We confided each other with the most private secrets, we cried together, laughed, argued, got disappointed and angry with each other, reconciled, supported each other. Everybody knew that they would find us together lunching on Saturdays, talking men and -usually- my affairs of the heart. She was there to console me over an unsuccessful haircut, a bad boyfriend, my financial despairs -a result of reckless, non-programmed living . She was there to hold my hand in the hospital. She put together my Ikea bed and every time I used it more enthusiastically, I would hear the screech coming out of the horizontal bar.
She is gone now and five years of memory are left to me to care for. My five years are gone with her but I trust she will cherish them and she will hopefully keep them secret, not knowing anything of the arrangements over there.
Friday afternoon I will be at the airport, waiting for her, one last time.
P.S. I know you were reading this blog and had your share of questions regarding my cryptic and at times confusing entries. I wish I had told you more about it, and what is hidden behind some of the lines. But I guess you now know it all. And this is the only thing that comforts me, that you now have complete understanding of all that was troubling you, all that were unanswered.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
51 years later...
She went early to bed. She was very tired and sleep deprived. Two nights, trying to draft a monologue that was proven to be the biggest challenge. “What is it? Stream of consciousness? And if yes, then who is going to take that punch?” So, that night, she went early to bed. Took a sleeping pill, switched on the tv and lost the battle with Morpheus almost the moment she rested on the pillow. It was around ten. She remembers a vivid dream with an old friend in the main role, and then this was interrupted by the doorbell. Trying to gather her thoughts and figure out place, day and time, she realized it was one minute into her birthday. Her 51st birthday, one more that found her alone in bed, with no one to think of and, it seems, exactly as she wanted it. The doorbell rang again and she did not move an inch. She stayed there, eyes open and misty for most of the night, until five, when she started preparing for her morning exercise routine. She did it all as she does every morning. Checking two blogs, squeezing half a lemon in a glass of water, strawberries and black coffee. A quick run to the bathroom, gym clothes and shoes, alarm, keys and out the door. As she was descending the stairs to the front door she could see through the glass something on the ground and as she opened the door, a small flower pot with the most beautiful and lonely golden chrysanthemum greeting her. This, and a note: “May 16, 00:01. Happy birthday, I wish you happiness. I love you, Efi”.
More than a day and half later, writing this entry, eyes still misty, recalls the events of her birthday. A day that included beautiful wishes that came in all forms through many mediums, thoughtful presents, a ton of vodka in ‘Alexandrino’ along with her three musketeers (one there in spirit, and perhaps doing exactly that, consuming spirit…in her own town) and D’ Artangan, and an indelible message.
P.S. This is a small, very small, and I’m afraid poorly written story to say thank you to my best friends, who are there for me in my moments of happiness, in my moments of sadness, in my moments of craziness, in my drunken moments, in my lonely moments. They are there to do all these with me, to live the happiness and pain, craziness and drunkenness. To take me home, and call me the following morning.
More than a day and half later, writing this entry, eyes still misty, recalls the events of her birthday. A day that included beautiful wishes that came in all forms through many mediums, thoughtful presents, a ton of vodka in ‘Alexandrino’ along with her three musketeers (one there in spirit, and perhaps doing exactly that, consuming spirit…in her own town) and D’ Artangan, and an indelible message.
P.S. This is a small, very small, and I’m afraid poorly written story to say thank you to my best friends, who are there for me in my moments of happiness, in my moments of sadness, in my moments of craziness, in my drunken moments, in my lonely moments. They are there to do all these with me, to live the happiness and pain, craziness and drunkenness. To take me home, and call me the following morning.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
388 days...Clarity is here at last...
I cannot tell you how many times I started this entry and how many times I was interrupted. I started writing it yesterday morning, because yesterday it was a day to remember, a sad anniversary that created a void in the life of a dearest person. And the moment I was writing this line, and I was interrupted by the sound of an incoming fb message, I once more confirmed what is a given in our relationship.
The idea behind yesterday’s/ today’s entry is to go back to the events of last year, recalling the helplessness in the sight of loss and the embarrassment of my ways. O.K. I stole this idea! It was suggested by my writing competition and finding myself in a barren environment, I went ahead and stole it.
Looking back seems to be the theme of the days. Two old friends reentered my life in a most mysterious and unexpected way. Two friends from my LA school days, reminding me the missed and uncompleted dreams of my youth, the turns passed up and paths abandoned. But I don’t wish to sound cheated. Life was generous with me; life adjusted itself to my whims, and my ways. And when it could not follow me I invented a parallel challenge right out of literary and art contexts.
As I celebrate one year, plus few days, of blogging, I select one verse that encapsulates all that it was for me: “Nebulous flames in crystal cages”…one year later. This prophetic verse said it all. The unrestrained flames cerebrally manifested and reflected in multiple viewings through the crystal cages of a parallel reality. What has been described as 'special bond' and 'my continuation' has in reality, and in the course of this year, undergone as many changes as the folds of each of the personalities involved. Because we are both pleated more times than we can perhaps stand, rumpled from events and choices and character. And we are both more in number than the grains of sand and each one fails gloriously trying to contain it and count it up. And we both raise mirrors to reflect the other’s image, believing that this would reflect substance. But the mirror is void of reflection and only what is remembered holds quintessence.
One year later and silence echoes substance. One year later and this shared deep understanding contains the burden of knowledge and lived experience. What you think, feel, are afraid of, escape from, I’ve done it all, accepted it all, regretted it all, loved it all, and now reliving it all. One year later and a new chapter is commencing that will finally take me back to what I was meant to be. All this aided and supported by the inspiration contained in the memory of a past that is now incarnated in the body of an equal .
The idea behind yesterday’s/ today’s entry is to go back to the events of last year, recalling the helplessness in the sight of loss and the embarrassment of my ways. O.K. I stole this idea! It was suggested by my writing competition and finding myself in a barren environment, I went ahead and stole it.
Looking back seems to be the theme of the days. Two old friends reentered my life in a most mysterious and unexpected way. Two friends from my LA school days, reminding me the missed and uncompleted dreams of my youth, the turns passed up and paths abandoned. But I don’t wish to sound cheated. Life was generous with me; life adjusted itself to my whims, and my ways. And when it could not follow me I invented a parallel challenge right out of literary and art contexts.
As I celebrate one year, plus few days, of blogging, I select one verse that encapsulates all that it was for me: “Nebulous flames in crystal cages”…one year later. This prophetic verse said it all. The unrestrained flames cerebrally manifested and reflected in multiple viewings through the crystal cages of a parallel reality. What has been described as 'special bond' and 'my continuation' has in reality, and in the course of this year, undergone as many changes as the folds of each of the personalities involved. Because we are both pleated more times than we can perhaps stand, rumpled from events and choices and character. And we are both more in number than the grains of sand and each one fails gloriously trying to contain it and count it up. And we both raise mirrors to reflect the other’s image, believing that this would reflect substance. But the mirror is void of reflection and only what is remembered holds quintessence.
One year later and silence echoes substance. One year later and this shared deep understanding contains the burden of knowledge and lived experience. What you think, feel, are afraid of, escape from, I’ve done it all, accepted it all, regretted it all, loved it all, and now reliving it all. One year later and a new chapter is commencing that will finally take me back to what I was meant to be. All this aided and supported by the inspiration contained in the memory of a past that is now incarnated in the body of an equal .
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