One year from now, where will we be?
I’ve spent a little over an hour staring at the i-beam on the word document blink at the end of that sentence, scared to go on. One year from now, where will we be?
In my head, we have finally spoken to each other. We have finally gotten past, the very short, and very loud pauses between our wrestling matches. We have stopped pretending like it is fun to try and set each other up with our overenthusiastic friends. In my head, I no longer have to hold on only to pockets of pictures, some sitting inside digital folders, one dated, kissed upon, safely tucked inside the inner sleeve of my wallet; in my head, the elongated call of the last vowel in your name is the distance between you and me.
In my head, there’s calm around us, when we are by ourselves; and a new storm, a pulsating beat that is ready to jump out of the body with its heart in its hands, because it cannot believe that the walls have come down, that you no longer end at my eye’s distance, but at my fingertip’s. In my head, we have changed so much, we have changed so little, my mind cannot understand if time is speeding by or standing still, because nothing has mattered so much so far. Nothing as much as seeing your eyes crinkle, catching the smile on your lips crunching in and out. Nothing as much as seeing you close your eyes and throw a kiss in the air towards me, scooping up all the curls into a pineapple up your head, humming what is possibly a tune you picked up in that workshop last week.
The i-beam on my screen is blinking, helping me pace my heart after it went on a frenzy, writing things as though it is merely a recollection of last week’s daily things. 10 minutes to having you ring the bell and in one quick jump, climb piggyback on my shoulders. 12 to sinking your teeth into my hand. 13 and a half to you shouting ‘Nee poda thendi!’ 15 to me starting the car to drive around with plans made with the wind. How long till I muster that courage?
One year from now, where will we be?
-
Darshana, from one year ago.
Fort Kochi - March, 2019.
I’ve spent a little over an hour staring at the i-beam on the word document blink at the end of that sentence, scared to go on. One year from now, where will we be?
In my head, we have finally spoken to each other. We have finally gotten past, the very short, and very loud pauses between our wrestling matches. We have stopped pretending like it is fun to try and set each other up with our overenthusiastic friends. In my head, I no longer have to hold on only to pockets of pictures, some sitting inside digital folders, one dated, kissed upon, safely tucked inside the inner sleeve of my wallet; in my head, the elongated call of the last vowel in your name is the distance between you and me.
In my head, there’s calm around us, when we are by ourselves; and a new storm, a pulsating beat that is ready to jump out of the body with its heart in its hands, because it cannot believe that the walls have come down, that you no longer end at my eye’s distance, but at my fingertip’s. In my head, we have changed so much, we have changed so little, my mind cannot understand if time is speeding by or standing still, because nothing has mattered so much so far. Nothing as much as seeing your eyes crinkle, catching the smile on your lips crunching in and out. Nothing as much as seeing you close your eyes and throw a kiss in the air towards me, scooping up all the curls into a pineapple up your head, humming what is possibly a tune you picked up in that workshop last week.
The i-beam on my screen is blinking, helping me pace my heart after it went on a frenzy, writing things as though it is merely a recollection of last week’s daily things. 10 minutes to having you ring the bell and in one quick jump, climb piggyback on my shoulders. 12 to sinking your teeth into my hand. 13 and a half to you shouting ‘Nee poda thendi!’ 15 to me starting the car to drive around with plans made with the wind. How long till I muster that courage?
One year from now, where will we be?
-
Darshana, from one year ago.
Fort Kochi - March, 2019.
Hit play :)
Kaun Mera Unplugged - ft. Papon
