I first saw you eleven months, two weeks and three days ago. I could not remember much, and I would have consciously allowed your presence and everything that shall remind me of it to be imprinted on my mind, like paper slowly bearing words, if I knew that today, you will be back, and it will be like you never really left.
And then you beam, like you just learned how to smile yesterday. I was as speechless as I was a year ago, only now, I would completely kick myself if I allow the space between us to remain.. to remain.
You start telling me about your year, the places you went to on whim. Just because, you like to reason out. Only you would have gotten away with this. I was wary of people who flitted around impulsively just because they knew no one really expected them to linger somewhere long after the initial fire of curiosity has died, but of course I should have known you would wreak havoc when you arrived, even more so when you left. But now you’re back, aren’t you?
“So, weddings. Kind of a big deal, huh.” You tease, playfully.
Come to think of it, everything about you resonates with that word, playful. It’s not you having this childish delusion that the world has as many restart buttons as you would need to push, nor you brainwashed about real life always equating to people gazing at your conquests, your aimless flight, your easy charm. It’s about you not taking your days seriously, in the best possible way, ever. You divorce everyone from their past, and everyone is thankful to you for that. Something about you just infects people with optimism, like nothing bad could ever happen to them, ever again.
“So, what are you wearing?”
This time, you are genuinely concerned. No other person in the world would think of clothes after a proposal having made only ten minutes ago. You are absolutely adorable, looking perpetually clueless of the implications a decision has coupled to its very name. While most people would think this is just you being you, they are wrong. We both know you are like all of us. You have considered this months — maybe even a year — before. You are just good at pretending things have no weight; like water, easing down a certain, predetermined path and that you are only playing the part of a sea nymph going along with the currents. Because, you announced once, at that party where you are so flustered with wine and capturing the attention of everyone else in the room, life has no direction. Forcing a direction to your life would mean — but ah, how could you when it doesn’t exist? And then everyone laughed, including me.
“I think I want to be normal starting now.”
I raise an eyebrow. You, normal? Never. And you knew it. You smiled, and then laughed to yourself.
“I’m going with the tux.”
“Good.” I reply, feigning nonchalance. “Meet you at the altar, then.”
weird dose of cheesiness. :) Been a long time.