Pixie Dust

Sometimes, I wish we had never met that summer.  If only you had not offered to win me a stuffed elephant at the carnival I had decided to visit, maybe we would not have gone paddle boating after; or stayed out on the lake until past midnight, the blanket of twinkling fairy lights above enveloping us in a sense of euphoria.  A sense that the magical time we were having would not come to an abrupt halt. 

Maybe if I had not accepted to go out to dinner the next night, I would not be sitting on the floor in my dirty pyjamas, mascara stained cheeks telling our story with no assistance needed from the crumpled papers strewn across the room.

If what occurred last summer was just a figment of someone's imagination or a story waiting to be told, this sheet of loose leaf would not contain these words.  I would not be spending the night trying to break the sentences that have formed cast iron chains around my heart by letting them flow out with the stroke of my pencil. 

But it wasn't.  Last summer happened and now we have to live with the consequences.

When it is well past midnight, and I am staring at the faded glow-in-the-dark constellations I had stuck on the ceiling of my bedroom when I was ten, the memories that I manage to hold at bay during the daylight burst out of their dams.  They wash over me like a tsunami, sparing no mercy.  I am forced to remember.  After all, how can I not?

It is impossible to forget the freckles that dot your cheeks like specks of gold; or the way I could always have you displaying that beautiful, crooked smile of yours within seconds of saying "hello".  The fact that you were obsessed with physics and Disney movies and that your favorite one was Peter Pan (which you forced me to watch with you at least five times).  By the end of our two months together, we knew each other backwards and forwards and maybe even upside down. 

 Everywhere I go, I am assaulted with memories, fragments of time.  Each like a tiny shard of glass puncturing my heart.  Every single place we have visited brings back one; it seems like we have made a million.

The clearest memory I have after all this time is you comparing us to Peter and Wendy, because I was blonde and you were ginger.  I wish we could have just gone to Neverland instead of you moving to Canada and me remaining in this small town.  I would not have minded meeting Tinker Bell, Tiger Lily and the lost boys.  Heck, I would have even fought Captain Hook so I could continue being with you.

The day you told me you were going to be on the other side of the world within a week, was the hottest day of the summer.  I remember the oppressive heat trapping me along with the realization that I would not be seeing you again for an unmeasured amount of time.  Weirdly, the first thing that popped into my head after the horrible words drifted out of your mouth was a quote from your beloved movie. 

“Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting.” I choked the words out, each one lodging itself in my throat.  You then lifted my chin up with a flick of your wrist and whispered: “Hey Wendy, if you're ever feeling lonely, take a long, hard look at the stars.  You never know, I might be looking at them too.”

 So whenever I really can't stand it anymore, even though it's been almost a year, I do what you told me to, gaze at the little dots of white in the ebony sky.  The reassuring feeling that radiates through me, knowing you might be doing the same, numbs the pain, at least for a bit.

Anyway, I have to keep hoping and wishing on birthday candles, right?  Who knows, maybe my wishes will finally come true.  The universe could have so many different things planned for us; events that we don't know will be taking place.  There are a million places we have yet to see and a thousand things we must do.  Maybe our paths will cross once again.  After all, just like you always say, the world is made up of faith, trust and a just little bit of pixie dust.