It is bright. The sort of bright that occurs when you walk out into the sunlight after leaving a dark house or room. I smell the heat of tar minutely melting on the asphalt; the heat is uncomfortable. The farther I walk, the greater a sense of unease builds. I have been on this road before, many times before yet I recognize nothing. But my feet drag me on and on until I reach a dirty white house. It is a large colonial, with big windows. The lawn and trees are not taken care of, there are leaves and overgrown bushes everywhere. Internally I freak out as soon I see this home. As I walk up the driveway I realize I'm doing my utmost to sneak up into the side/backyard, I have no interest in being recognized and seen. I sneak into the side yard without being seen and breath a sigh of relief. There's a river that runs behind the house, a aesthetic that I don't remember ever existing yet somehow knowing that it exists now. As I walk toward it I realize there is a child playing in the leaves in the backyard, a little girl. As I speak to her I realize that it's the first woman I ever loved but at what point in time we are I have no idea. She's barely 5 yrs old and I think I am either my age now or moderately into my old age. She ask's me:
She:"why'd you leave me all alone?"
Me:"I'm sorry, I don't know. I just couldn't anymore."
She:"But you had promised."
Me:"I know. I shouldn't have promised."
Her childish nonchalance of playing with the leaves and rolling around as she asks these questions disturbs me greatly as I sit at her feet. We sit in silence, listening to the wind in the trees and the hot summer sun baking the earth. I stand up to go and everything fades to black.
8/15/11
This is a vivid, visceral, cinematic depiction of an emotionally rich inner landscape. Mindblowingly beautiful writing sir Vyas!
ReplyDeleteThat first love thing and the alchemy of both regret, nostalgia, and the Malick-esque symbolism of the unconscious is haunting.