Scattered Dreams & Dragonflies

A bottles homecoming

It was a normal morning, the day had nothing special. The sun rises up, again and again, just like any other. It starts, and I am none the wiser. The emptiness inside my home was something I had grown accustomed to. The silence amongst us no longer stung; numbness, a byproduct of repetition and human resilience, reigned over my heart as more days went by. I was chasing a dream, a selfish, ignorant dream. I was in pursuit of us, doing everything in my power to rekindle what we once had. That simple puppy love, those morning breakfasts in bed, those cinnamon-scented candles, and long conversations at night. Those little things that gave warmth to this home no longer lived here. They had all moved long ago, leaving me behind. They knew full well this relationship was on its last legs, and I did everything I could to salvage it, but ultimately... I failed.

Do I blame myself? Maybe, maybe not. It could've been a myriad of things that pushed us away. I could say that I was without flaw, that in my view, I fought endlessly to save us, to save this relationship. I'd boast about how I single-handedly carried the full emotional and physical toll, the price of love for both of us, but I was way over my head. Everything in my parents, my friends... even my lover's eyes would've been your fault. YOU were the reason I left, YOU were the reason we drifted apart, YOU were the reason I fell into someone else's arms. Truth be told, we were not at fault.

I still remember our connection; it really was something unique. I remember the first time seeing you. That rainy day in the park. You seemed so defeated, and yet, who would've thought that me, with a single gesture of covering you with my umbrella, would eventually amount to so much. After some time, you told me the whole story from your point of view, the story of a man I never knew existed, who had already planned so much ahead just to meet me. Unbeknownst to me, he had built a foundation, a plan to see me directly in the eyes. All the while, I was just existing, living life, drinking coffee, enjoying my book every morning at the coffee shop, at the same table I loved so much.

He had built a plan, but he also told me how life had sabotaged him the very day he had planned to meet me. He was prepared; the stage was set for the performance of a lifetime. But nature and fate had other plans. In between smokescreens, unfortunate events, and life's undefeated misdirection, he wound up with his head looking down, taking on the rain without so much as an umbrella. Then and there, without us knowing, a new arc would come to be, as between scarce words and an endless stare in each other's eyes, our hearts intertwined, forming a new chapter.

Our beginning, like any couple in love, was filled with everlasting happiness. Life seemed fuller, happier, colors around us were more vivid, moments together seemed to last an eternity. The more we got to know about each other, the more we learned to complement ourselves. We learned about each other's pet peeves. What made us laugh, what made us tick, what angered us, what saddened our souls. In the end, we learned what the other felt, as deeply as we could. We bonded over what the other loved. I'd join him when going to the gym, for those morning runs, he'd read with me, cuddled up in bed late at night around the scented candle lights. We'd stay up till morning, sharing stories, discussing points of view, our favorite parts of the books we'd read. All until we fell asleep, until the next day. That was the closest we had gotten to paradise.

I'm not delusional; I know life is finite, and nothing lasts forever. Still, I had a different vision of how our imminent end would come to pass. I saw us reading the morning paper side by side, old and withered. A lifelong lived, with many stories to tell, many days to count, and yet together. Our skin would slowly wither, our eyes would steadily give away, all the while our minds remained clear and present. Time would go by slowly, with everything but our image of each other. We would hold the other's hand until one would say goodbye first. Then the other would hold on to memories until we saw each other again.

How naïve, huh? How naïve to believe that even amongst our dwindling emotions, the constant change of our situations, the myriads of sporadic events in our lives, we would think we'd be untouchable. To think that even in our best of times, we were weak. Human nature, human confidence sure is something to behold. Steadily, as human routine and complacency kick in, our minds fly on autopilot. Soon those "good old days" spread their wings, and it's not until we feel the emptiness one day, out of nowhere, that we are reminded of those times, those times when we were happy, those times when we believed ourselves untouchable.