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MRT144
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Seattle Washington
Oct 2002
time: 21:26
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i havent really had best moments, or at least ones that i go, "WOW" at
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spartak
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Getting married
Having Son
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DaShi
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The Taste of Japan
Sep 2000
time: 05:26
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The last day I saw my ex in China. We had never actually admitted to our feelings for eachother because we new the day would come. I would leave and probably never come back. So we didn't want to get too deep only to end up hurting eachother.
So on my last day in Hangzhou, she came with me to the train station, where I would leave for the Pudong Airport in Shanghai. The light sprinkles of rain seemed to resist a torrent just as we tried to hold in our tears.
As we sat in the station, there wasn't much to say. We had spent the previous day together and it seemed that all the emotion building up since then would pour out if we dared open our mouths. So we sat, occasionally staring at eachother trying to make small talk, trying to comfort the other. Finally, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her bracelet. She handed it to me. "Your husband?" I replied with apprehension. "I love you more than my husband."
As is common with young lovers, silly traditions emerge from silly situations. For some reason, she was bent on writing in my Chinese-English dictionary and I was bent on preventing her. So she would retort that I liked my dictionary more than her, "You love that book so much, it is your wife." Well, somehow her bracelet became her husband and so that is how I referred to it.
On the train she sat with me the few minutes we had left. We held eachother in a deep and knowingly final embrace. The tears no longer held back. Time is never long enough, and she had to leave. She quickly ran to the side of the train and found my window. Pressing her hand against the glass, I pressed mine against hers. And we stayed there until the train began to move. Like out of some old romance movie, she ran after it. But she couldn't keep up. Far too soon, gone.
I can still smell her perfume on her bracelet.
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Felch
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Germantown, Maryland
Sep 2001
time: 00:26
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That sounds awfully bittersweet DaShi.
EDIT: Bugger, well I spoke too soon. Oh well.
Last edited by Felch on 11-03-2003 at 08:48
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MRT144
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Seattle Washington
Oct 2002
time: 21:26
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now i got one, first and only time i chewed tabacco
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MRT144
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Seattle Washington
Oct 2002
time: 21:26
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I GOT ACCEPTED TO THE ART INSTITUTE! IM IN BABY! UHHHHHHHH NA NA NANA!
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molly bloom
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Lundenwic
Oct 2001
time: 15:26
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Swimming with my partner on the Great Barrier Reef in 1998- I had seen the usual nature programmes growing up in Great Britain, but never imagined that one day I would be on the reef, in amongst the vari-coloured coral, touching sea cucumbers, garupas, watching clown fish dart in and out of underwater forests. The prodigality of colours in the corals, in the fish, the sunlight flickering on the water- and to be there with the person I had loved for fourteen years.
In 1994 we went to Telegraph Cove on Vancouver Island- we took a boat out to stretch of water where killer whales often came. When we arrived we were fortunate to see a pod of four, a mother whale and three sons. They leapt full out of the water, slapped the surface with their tails, came to the end of the boat and just peered at us- great enigmatic stares, fathomless. I felt very small, very human and priviliged.
My friend Alison died when I was in my second year at university. I received the phone call late one afternoon, a disembodied voice telling me there was some bad news, that Alison was dead. At first I could not take in the news, it didn't seem possible- Alison was young, healthy, she was fun, vital, a lover of life. It couldn't be her that was dead. Little by little, tears came and then the pain. Great wracking sobs, and I wasn't sure if I was grieving for me or for Alison. The train journey home was the longest journey I've ever made, the walk to Alison's parents' house the longest walk. I saw people behaving normally, and could not understand how they didn't know that Alison was dead. I reached her house, saw many familiar faces through the window, but knew that one was missing.
'Sit down', 'a cup of tea?', the comforts of hospitality, saying 'hello' and trying not to think of why we're all here. Keeping my eyes on the floor, not looking people in the face, and then ashamed as tears come again, the heat of blood rushing to my face, the tremors of suppressed sobs, and Margaret, Alison's mother, a strong voice, telling me it was all right to cry.
We never found out why Alison died- she had been to a party, had a couple of drinks, eaten some chilli, fallen asleep and then never woke up. There was a coroner's inquest, he found no evidence of poison, no drugs, no embolism, no haemorrhage, no disease, nothing to offer the comfort of scientific cause and effect. Simply, one day alive, one day dead. It took me a long time to get through the clinical depression that followed.
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07-03-2003 16:58
ACK!
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