Forget me not…

Friday evening. I’m sitting on the gigantic stone wall that faces the sea. The echoes generated by the water waves falling slowly on the wall, reach down my soul. I pull out the green lighter, with a “Peace” cigarette on my mouth. After a couple of tries, the lighter finally produces a beam of fire. It’s the lighter she gave me. I inhale deeply. Yeah. I guess, it’s going to be one of those nights.

How long does it take to forget someone? That has been the preferred topic of poets, forever. Personally, I’m unable to forget. Inside me, all the fire repeats itself. In me, nothing is extinct nor forgotten. Like a poem by Neruda.

Yet, I have discovered that once I write, I can get over the memory and keep living. Cause nothing hurts like a goodbye never said. Or, written. Well, this is it then. This is my goodbye to her.

We met only once, after a couple of weeks texting.

Ethnically, she was mixed. She had fire and ice, in her veins. Since the moment I met her, I knew… that night, I was getting the warm side of her, the fire. What about tomorrow, though? Rule number 1: No tomorrows… “Live for today, because yesterday is gone, and tomorrow might never come”, that was my school yearbook saying, at least.

During our conversation two more rules come up. Rule numero 3: “Don’t make promises you know you cannot keep” and numero 7: “Never trust a lawyer. They’re going to try to steal your money or your wife, or…both”.

“What about your other rules?”, she asks, as she picks up a slice of pizza.

“You learn about them over time, naturally. It’s better than just putting them out, in an abstract way”, I answer, sipping on my ginger ale.

Well, today, you get to hear one more rule. Number 2: Never say goodbye, if you hope to meet again.        

She’s an artist, but I’m not sure she knows it yet. Her shining eyes, her smile, has a special style to it. Uniqueness. The first person that comes in mind when I look at her, is Merlin Monroe. The clean bob haircut. The way her clothes fit. Her rings. One for each hand. The golden watch on her wrist. The way she walks, talks, smiles. All the pieces of the puzzle, fitting together, as perfectly as they can.

“Don’t worry, I won’t forget you”, I say, pointing at the writing on her sweater. “Forget me not”, such a typical writing for her. She insists that it doesn’t mean anything, it’s just random.

“I can be your motivation”, she says, answering to the “Excellent Motivation” written on mine.

At the end of the night, we walked to our train stations together. Hers comes first and then a short walk after, mine. The last kiss, and she goes up the escalator, towards her train stop. Yet, I feel like, we had our last moment, before we started walking in the direction of the stations. Yes, we had our last moment, under a tree at the Honcho Central Park, Funabashi. Maybe it meant nothing to her. Maybe, there really isn’t much to it, but in me all the fire repeats itself. Forever… Fornever.  

I have a little bit of a philosophical approach when it comes to getting to know people. I want to know the deep things. Thus, I wanted to know what she feared, what she loved, what makes her happy, sad… I think I learned something big from her. Maybe, the little questions are just as important as the big ones. Maybe, even more important.

“I don’t think these questions you make are so important”, she says, looking at me from across the table, at the Irish bar “I care more about things like how was your day, what did you eat, did a mosquito bite you?”

“An excellent point”, I think to myself. We shared a special afternoon together, and I will cherish it, for life.

Lately, a lot of girls whose name start with J., are crossing paths with me. Human fate is very strange. Mysterious. I mean, think of the strange combination of circumstances that allows us to be, where we are. The complexities of fate that leads to us passing on each other life pathways. Life is short and the world is big.  Thanks for the memories, J.

Back to the present. It’s me and the sea, again. Is love a two way dream? Or is it really just the impulse to survive and replicate?! The water washes the stones deep under my feet. I feel like, it reaches down my soul and slowly all the yesterdays wash away too.

There is no tomorrow, baby. There never was. All we got is today.

I look at my palm, the same way she tried to read my future, last weekend.  I notice something on it.

A mosquito bit me today…

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