I am lost in a haunting yet homesick sense of nostalgia. On days, I doubt my motives but am always reassured by my sense of belonging. For nothing is more certain than the past and the things that we leave behind.
It’s five o’clock in the morning, and for the last few months insomnia has relentlessly deprived me of sleep. I spend my nights casually roaming the city in search of mementos that awaken dormant memories from the deep crevices of my mind. This city I roam is like an old friend that has changed so much over the long years that its soul no longer feels familiar. The city tosses and turns in its sleep as heavy rain cascades down on its roadways and on the shoulders of your narrator. The blurry neon lights, which have grown so steadily over the years, can be seen on every street, and every so often a shrill car alarm can be heard in the distance, like lost echoes derived from the dreams I once had.
I come across an abandoned house that has sulked in its ruins for any occupant to once again give it a meaning and purpose. As a child, this house was my sanctuary. It was once a place where I felt safe no matter what grotesque horror manifested itself onto the world. Although now, it hold no more meaning than a skeleton would to a mourning family. To forget is to waste, but to reminisce is to cherish.
I approach a large apartment complex that has eroded from generations of families and weather like this persistent rain that follows me this night. On the third floor in room 107 is a mother who does her best to care for her three children. She’s over her head in debt and has no one on this vast earth to turn to. I would so willingly knock on door 107 to be warmly welcomed in by my former wife and kids, but it is out of my jurisdiction.
Down the road I distinguish what used to be the basketball court where I played with my childhood friends, the fast food restaurant where I held my first job, and the café where I first met my wife. All of these are only silhouettes in reality, but in the recesses of my mind, they still vividly lived on.
I arrive at a vacant beach that gives a perfect view of the stirring horizon. Drenched, I patiently wait for this lingering night to end.
“It’s time to move on,” A voice said suddenly appearing behind me, “You need to forget about this city and come with me.”
“I don’t want to forget,” I whispered calmly, “This is my home and I will never abandon it.”
“Is this truly how you feel?” The voice pleaded, “This was your home. There’s a brighter future waiting for you.”
“Leave me alone.” I said unfaltering. I let the silence speak for me.
Crashing waves reached out for my toes. They drew closer and closer with each attempt until they engulfed my feet. I felt nothing.
“You know you’ve been dead for five years?” The voice questioned, “You know that, right?”
The rain abruptly stopped.
“Yes,” I said with rain still running down my face but emotionally unchanged, “I know, and truthfully, I would stay here with all of my memories until the end of eternity. I don’t expect you to understand, I just want to be left in peace. Why would I let you take me away from this?”
Only silence filled the air. The voice had left, or perhaps, had only existed in my mind. The voice was no longer my concern as my attention shifted to the stirring black horizon. Suddenly the morning sun miraculously lit the sky with colors of deep azure and lavender. The morning sun was bright in the same way that someone’s life flashing before their eyes would be bright. The warm rays of sunlight radiated in the same way that hundreds of souls drifting away from this physical world would radiate. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the sunrise had settled.
I continued, forever lost in my haunting yet homesick sense of nostalgia.
