This is a story that I haven't shared with anyone until now.
The moment a memory is remembered one is not sure, I am not sure if this was real or imagination. My imagination.
But then again, once we have imagined something, anything, a moment, a feeling, it takes on a life and becomes a part of you.
This is my memory.
The sun woke me up with a blistering burn on my left cheek. That morning fresh snow had fallen. The snow was different when I was a child. It was whiter, prettier and lasted perfect and un-touched for what seemed like months. Maybe it was. Or maybe it was me that lasted longer, innocent and looking only at the beauty of things, the snow. Not the slush and ickiness of it.
I got out of bed. My bed was to the right of the window and next to the wall. I liked my bed to be against the wall, since my feet always got too hot under the clown covers and the cold wall was an immediate cooler.
I got out, no slippers. Hot feet remember.
I rushed to the door, creeped out. Down the hallway, past their room, and into the living room.
There was a man, a tall man.
I knew he always existed, but now finally he was real. I could see him. I looked and saw him.
Long curly only at the ends white beard and same hair, only shorter. White and perfect as fresh meringue. Eyes piercing into the sparkling lights. Bags and ribbon, everywhere. I was not alone.
A chill and a warmth were introduced.
The soft breath of life was felt all around me and there was a pinky mist that travelled all around the room. Swirling and picking up ribbons and as the pink air now moved, so did the ribbons. Many ribbons, different colours. It was magical.
One breath spoke. It was a deep voice, but young. A voice I had never heard before but know it was a man named Serban. My father's cousin who passed away long ago. We never met but I was given his name as my middle name and eventhough I only know him through stories, pictures and other people's versions of him I always felt I did know him. I cannot explain it to you or even to myself. It just is. It's like love, you cannot explain why you love someone or something. You can make lists and give reasons but the true true true reason you love someone is because...you just do.
I walked closer, right next to him. I could still feel the night's travelling air on his cuff. It was nice. Real. Reminded me again, he was real.
My sudden magical night was halted by a loud slide of the balcony door. We were on the 10th floor. It was my mother. I froze, stunned for only a moment. I must have forced myself to shake it off, or else I would not have remembered the moment. Then I realized that the time spent with him was becomming foggy too quicky.
I was brought to tears. I remember rushing off down the hallway, past their room and into my room.
I ached, heart and mind exhausted. My feet were now cold as ice.
I remember laying there. The outside perfect snow had now stopped. It was not perfect then. I was just snow. The twinkle of the stars met the crusted brulee snow and bounced beaming off every parking lot member.
The pink air was now in my room. The cuff grazed my arm and I felt his warmth around me. Again. I stayed in my room for awhile. I wasn't ready to give him up just yet. After all we had just met. I took it all in, through my shut so tight eyes they burned. The memory of what was, an angel.
The moment a memory is remembered one is not sure, I am not sure if this was real or imagination. My imagination.
But then again, once we have imagined something, anything, a moment, a feeling, it takes on a life and becomes a part of you.
This is my memory.
The sun woke me up with a blistering burn on my left cheek. That morning fresh snow had fallen. The snow was different when I was a child. It was whiter, prettier and lasted perfect and un-touched for what seemed like months. Maybe it was. Or maybe it was me that lasted longer, innocent and looking only at the beauty of things, the snow. Not the slush and ickiness of it.
I got out of bed. My bed was to the right of the window and next to the wall. I liked my bed to be against the wall, since my feet always got too hot under the clown covers and the cold wall was an immediate cooler.
I got out, no slippers. Hot feet remember.
I rushed to the door, creeped out. Down the hallway, past their room, and into the living room.
There was a man, a tall man.
I knew he always existed, but now finally he was real. I could see him. I looked and saw him.
Long curly only at the ends white beard and same hair, only shorter. White and perfect as fresh meringue. Eyes piercing into the sparkling lights. Bags and ribbon, everywhere. I was not alone.
A chill and a warmth were introduced.
The soft breath of life was felt all around me and there was a pinky mist that travelled all around the room. Swirling and picking up ribbons and as the pink air now moved, so did the ribbons. Many ribbons, different colours. It was magical.
One breath spoke. It was a deep voice, but young. A voice I had never heard before but know it was a man named Serban. My father's cousin who passed away long ago. We never met but I was given his name as my middle name and eventhough I only know him through stories, pictures and other people's versions of him I always felt I did know him. I cannot explain it to you or even to myself. It just is. It's like love, you cannot explain why you love someone or something. You can make lists and give reasons but the true true true reason you love someone is because...you just do.
I walked closer, right next to him. I could still feel the night's travelling air on his cuff. It was nice. Real. Reminded me again, he was real.
My sudden magical night was halted by a loud slide of the balcony door. We were on the 10th floor. It was my mother. I froze, stunned for only a moment. I must have forced myself to shake it off, or else I would not have remembered the moment. Then I realized that the time spent with him was becomming foggy too quicky.
I was brought to tears. I remember rushing off down the hallway, past their room and into my room.
I ached, heart and mind exhausted. My feet were now cold as ice.
I remember laying there. The outside perfect snow had now stopped. It was not perfect then. I was just snow. The twinkle of the stars met the crusted brulee snow and bounced beaming off every parking lot member.
The pink air was now in my room. The cuff grazed my arm and I felt his warmth around me. Again. I stayed in my room for awhile. I wasn't ready to give him up just yet. After all we had just met. I took it all in, through my shut so tight eyes they burned. The memory of what was, an angel.
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