Saturday, April 30, 2016

fiction: blue cap

A few days ago you came into my mind. Not in a waltzing motion, not in a sudden explosion either. It was gradual. When I thought of you and started to trace back the lost steps, this image I used to relish years ago slowly, slowly became clear. It was unexpected, it surprised me, because I thought I had forgotten it. Now I remember it all.

It was your birthday, I brought you a cake. We sat across each other with the cake between us. I gave you a present. The blue cap that you put on right away. I never liked the contrast between your hair and the cap, didn't think it matched your golden hair but you said you liked it and I guessed that was enough. Your smile was convincing enough.

You gave me something too, as if it was our birthdays instead of just yours. I put it aside, because the cake was more important. Blow the candles, I urged. Before anyone in my house noticed that I was not in my room, you had to do it now. In the end I never got to open it, the present you got me.

I regretted it, not opening it straight away like you did. Will you be mad, if I tell you now that I never find out what was inside that box? I never told you this— I wanted to open it without you, because it would had been embarrassing if you were to see me when I looked too happy like the little girl I was. But I did get something from you that day. I didn't know this when I despised myself the next day for losing the package. But I do now, I know now, so if you are reading this I hope you won't be mad.

Thank you for the present. I love it.

The only thing missing is our voices. I see our lips form shapes, then the corners tilt up, close and open again. No voices come out. But memories are supposed to be like that, aren't they? Especially something this vague and distant. I don't want to make up my own voices to fill in the gap. Sometimes the beauty lies in the not knowing, I keep telling myself this.

I am writing this because I know I will forget again. Hence while I still remember I want someone else to remember too. And maybe remind me again years later when seeing another blue cap does not trigger anything anymore inside me. So I can go back to that day again when we were kids and there were only us and no one else, and it was your birthday but you gave me a birthday too, I got you a cake and a blue cap, and you wore the prettiest laugh.

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