Sunday, December 07, 2008

I never though they'd come back to visit.

Three years ago, I remember waving farewell to two old friends. I thought I've seen the last of them, but they often say how we cannot forget our past, however hard we try to lose them.

I'm not one to have a lot of close companions, but these two have certainly followed me through the thick and thin of my earlier life. Always close, they kept me company and gave me the gift of time - the one true indicator of a truthful friend.

The first one came to me a few days ago. I felt him knocking and I thought I'd answer to see how he was. A quick exchange of thoughts brought about the next fiery moment of frantic expression. I was back on to where we left off, throwing ideas upon ideas at him. It felt great, and as the saying goes - you never knew what you had until you leave him standing in the rifts of time. There was a reason I said goodbye, and I know know more than ever how important he had been to me; all the memories came gushing back - torrents of gloom, dementia, and doubt flooded my brain.

In that moment, I took out a pen and wrote. Welcome back, dear friends.

The next returned to me just - or so I noticed. He's always been subtle, not coming onto my face like poetry or words, and I appreciated him for the encapsulating presence. Though not intrusive, his being here always made me feel like I'm a part of what I left behind.

To sense him I have to sit back and keep as quiet as I can, not doing anything that would take my focus away. Then as the world dulls to a muted rumble, I hear the forlorn whisper of his voice - a melody that has sent me to sleep a many times. It is always a sad tune, asking for attention and taunting me for being able to hear him. To a certain extent he resembles a drone - a mechanical symphony that has become ritual to me as I sit alone in the room.

And he is back, reminding me that he has been neglected, that I have not been home often enough; I now find myself home too often, not spending the kind of life I thought I had a few years ago.

My time alone has grown, and to my disgust I find myself asking questions that shouldn't be asked, of a person who shouldn't be doubted, on a subject I would never have thought be possible.

While I sit here in front of my computer, I wonder.

And they say a many things about letting your mind roam.

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