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The Window |
| Written by Heena N. | |
| Tuesday, 19 February 2008 | |
As I walk back home everyday my eyes quickly glance up at her window. I know she's not going to be there but I look nonetheless. The glance doesn't last for long. My eyes quickly dart back to my feet and the ground on which I walk. I avoid any other eye contact. I know I don't want to be seen by anyone else... I pray that I don't get spotted. I don't feel like smiling at anyone... and I don't want the mere fact that I exist, to disturb somebody. I know that's what happens every time her parents see me. They wonder why she's not returning home with me, like always. They wonder why their daughter's not anymore. Their daughter, my best friend. I wonder if they look at me fondly or with contempt, whether I remind them of her. If I do, then I don't know whether that makes them happy or sad. I don't know and I can't ask. I'm afraid to smile when I do occasionally run into them. I dread those moments. But still those aren't the worst. I think of how time has passed. How long my life really is and how longer it seems now that I have lost sight of a friendly face. Those are the times I truly feel alone. And never before, have I felt helpless... never so incomplete. Not nearly so old and weak, never have I had such difficulty laughing out loud. It's been almost a year. But these months have been real hazy. Not a day goes by, though, that I don't think of her. Not even one. I don't cry anymore. But I hurt, probably worse than before. Initially it felt like a movie. A character dies fighting an epic battle, or gets shot dead by an evil villain. But you know it's not final. You see them again. You learn you're lessons, you get the moral of the story... but you see them again. I thought I'd see her again. I still do. Every time, on my way back home that's why I search the window. A sign of her return, I have a flash of memories. I remember her sitting with her face gleaming, chin on her palm, waving and smiling before she comes out the front door to greet me. We fought a lot, the whole of the past year. I wish we hadn't. I missed out a lot on what was going on inside her. In my struggle for discovering myself I forgot that my friend was still on my side. I started most of the fights. I feel disappointed whenever I think of how the last time she spent on this earth was imperfect because of me. But I also wonder whether those fights had a purpose, maybe they were for my benefit. If we were as close as ever, if I was still connected to her in the same way, I'm sure I would've died of heartache. Then again, maybe that would've been better than feeling this heartache constantly. All the times we've spent together come back to me. I remember how she made glum days seem joyful. That was her style. She could make anyone giggle for no reason and then keep going till they were laughing with tears in their eyes. I liked that. She had her annoying habits but those are fuzzy now. Funny how those things don't linger in your memory at all. Just a pristinely clear visual of the things you like best about that person. Just a vividly clear picture of their smile. And a resonant memory of their laughter. It still makes my insides shiver. I remember the phone call, I remember the trip to the hospital, I remember the words that told me what I feared the most. I remember the silent ride back home. And I remember that night as I lay in my bed holding on to her favorite pink hair band. I remember holding it in my hands. It still had her scent. The scent's gone now. She's gone. It's been a while. I only wish she knew that I did care. She did matter. She was my best friend. She still is. Copyright 2008 Heena N. |
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