I was driving a friend’s car to get here.
Mine is still in the garage after the last time my brother used it in a road trip with his bunch of friends. It was amazing I still remembered that little winding road, you know, and all the junctions and the turnpikes, too. I thought the park would still look the same way the last time we went there, the same way the last summer evening we spent sitting on the bench waiting for the night to fall. It did. Nothing really changed. That old tyre was still hanging on the oak, swinging as quietly as the last time I saw it. The bench was empty just the way we last left it. The birds were flying south.
It was only the trees that changed.
I was stunned to find the bright red, and orange, covering every corner of the road. Some of them were scattered on the bench, on the road-signs, at the rooster statue that leads to the way to your house. I guess this was what you meant. The autumn, in the stories you have always told me.
I miss all those stories now.
I thought I’d get lost.
I spent all the minutes in the car trying to remember every little signs that could help me stay on the right way. I went past a yellow board I wasn’t sure what was written on it—either “don’t” or “death”—then I pulled over and got out just to find it out. It says “deers”. And then I remembered everything you said about those bunches of creatures that would likely come crossing the road from every possible direction. About one you once found dead one morning on this very same place, gotten hit by a car the night before.
And then I remembered everything you said.
All the town legends you heard from your father when you were a kid. I remembered the way you recited the farm songs you used to hear in the kindergarten. I remembered everything you said about Mrs. Dominski, who lived next door, and all her seven husbands. I remembered your laughters. Your every little smirk, and all your sarcasms about what we heard on the radio.
And the way you smile.
And the way you kissed me in the middle of my speech.
I guess, in the end, that was what’s been keeping me on the right track along this road—that finally takes me to your door.
I have been pulling my head apart, trying to find the best things I should say to you the moment you find me there. Maybe it’s those craps we heard on the radio. Maybe it’s my apology, that I should have said long before I knew you really decided to stop calling. Maybe it’s my hope that you don’t move on so quickly, because…, because maybe there are too many other pretty girls that it should take you some time to pick one.
Because I don’t think you would want to pick a combo.
That is just so not you.
Or maybe it is just my time to finally drive back to where we were, because I have tried every other possibilities to deal with the days I didn’t see you anymore. I have figured out several scenarios like, moving away, or changing jobs, or having a haircut, or swallowing swords, or poking my eyeballs, but those just seem impossible. There are other scenarios that look impossible to me like…, like the earth stops rotating, and revolving, because it gets tired or it has been kicked away too far from the sun, that the sun loses its gravity, and then asteroids and meteors chrases and I don’t even know what I’m talking about here because I just really, really… miss you.
So how about no reasons. For I have missed you through all these seasons.
And I’m already at your door now.
Will you please open up?
I’ve missed you.
***
Mine is still in the garage after the last time my brother used it in a road trip with his bunch of friends. It was amazing I still remembered that little winding road, you know, and all the junctions and the turnpikes, too. I thought the park would still look the same way the last time we went there, the same way the last summer evening we spent sitting on the bench waiting for the night to fall. It did. Nothing really changed. That old tyre was still hanging on the oak, swinging as quietly as the last time I saw it. The bench was empty just the way we last left it. The birds were flying south.
It was only the trees that changed.
I was stunned to find the bright red, and orange, covering every corner of the road. Some of them were scattered on the bench, on the road-signs, at the rooster statue that leads to the way to your house. I guess this was what you meant. The autumn, in the stories you have always told me.
I miss all those stories now.
I thought I’d get lost.
I spent all the minutes in the car trying to remember every little signs that could help me stay on the right way. I went past a yellow board I wasn’t sure what was written on it—either “don’t” or “death”—then I pulled over and got out just to find it out. It says “deers”. And then I remembered everything you said about those bunches of creatures that would likely come crossing the road from every possible direction. About one you once found dead one morning on this very same place, gotten hit by a car the night before.
And then I remembered everything you said.
All the town legends you heard from your father when you were a kid. I remembered the way you recited the farm songs you used to hear in the kindergarten. I remembered everything you said about Mrs. Dominski, who lived next door, and all her seven husbands. I remembered your laughters. Your every little smirk, and all your sarcasms about what we heard on the radio.
And the way you smile.
And the way you kissed me in the middle of my speech.
I guess, in the end, that was what’s been keeping me on the right track along this road—that finally takes me to your door.
I have been pulling my head apart, trying to find the best things I should say to you the moment you find me there. Maybe it’s those craps we heard on the radio. Maybe it’s my apology, that I should have said long before I knew you really decided to stop calling. Maybe it’s my hope that you don’t move on so quickly, because…, because maybe there are too many other pretty girls that it should take you some time to pick one.
Because I don’t think you would want to pick a combo.
That is just so not you.
Or maybe it is just my time to finally drive back to where we were, because I have tried every other possibilities to deal with the days I didn’t see you anymore. I have figured out several scenarios like, moving away, or changing jobs, or having a haircut, or swallowing swords, or poking my eyeballs, but those just seem impossible. There are other scenarios that look impossible to me like…, like the earth stops rotating, and revolving, because it gets tired or it has been kicked away too far from the sun, that the sun loses its gravity, and then asteroids and meteors chrases and I don’t even know what I’m talking about here because I just really, really… miss you.
So how about no reasons. For I have missed you through all these seasons.
And I’m already at your door now.
Will you please open up?
I’ve missed you.
***
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