Rendezvous
12 March 07 : 03.25 PM
Last weekend, I found that we live on the ocean.
We climbed gates with forks sticking out at the top (you helped me, mostly), entered doors to once familiar places. Telling you this is where this used to be, this is where that used to stand and where everything used to belong. You soaked it all up, I never stopped being awed.
Then I showed you my old room. My old haven, the floating raft so that I had somewhere safe to reside on. At 10, it was Andii and Wilson talking at 11pm while I hid under my thick blanket. At 11, it was redolent with David Letterman talking in my sleep. At 15, sleepless, and immersed in water for hours nearing daylight. At 16, drowsy, not really living, couldn't stand this place so the Guest Room seemed more welcoming.
At 17, it was packing up. Pack pack pack, and at 17, it was leaving.
Creepy room, you said of the secret room inside the closet. Not so creepy when it was full of old toys and a welcoming sofa. Oh I miss it all.
Let's go to the balconey again. This time. Let's sit on transparent glass floors and enjoy the night air. The occasional cars that make us have to hide. The stars. The tall buildings are so far away. This place will be alive with us.
Breathing, living, lost and echoed.