Sunday, October 18, 2009

A Lullaby of a Memory

I remember that day so vividly. He had been asking me to go out for more than a week, and I finally agreed. It was one of those winter days when it is cold and you feel your hands freezing in the gloves, and yet the sun is shining. The white glittering snow created a picture of heaven. I stepped out of the taxi and the fresh air filled my lungs. I saw him there in the middle of the square with his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a black jacket and jeans: the usual. I stepped closer to him to say hi. He smiled. The mysterious color of his eyes made me angry because I could not define it, but it made him even more charming.
We started our walk in the quiet Borisova Garden. It was a Saturday afternoon but probably caring mothers decided it is too cold for their kids to be outside. After a 15 minute walk we met the exception of my inference: a little creature passed near us. The little child was no older than 4 years: she was wearing a green coat and a red hat. Her cheeks were so red as if two raspberries had blossomed on them. Two small teeth could be seen in her smile: they were like little pearls on her little lips. She was looking like a little penguin, while she was trying to run away from her grandmother. The old woman stopped soon of course. Age is merciless. The little lady came next to me and I caught her hand. It felt so small in the glove. I took a glimpse at my companion. He was smiling. I smiled too. When I got back to him we started holding hands. I could not separate from the pulsing warmth of his hand. It was somewhat magical, and yet scaring.
Soon our walk in the park was over so we decided to walk the wet streets of the old Sofia. I had let his hand down. We passed “Chervilo”: the night club. It was so noisy at night and so quiet and calm during the day. He asked when I will go there with him. I laughed as usual and left him wondering. I had never been able to tell him that this music caused me a headache, so I tactically said nothing. We passed the Russian Church next. Its golden domes were reflecting the rays of light as if the day was not light enough. He asked me what I want to do. I was very thirsty so we stopped in a shop and he bought two cans of Coke. He took my hand and told me that he would lead me to a special place. We passed the Presidency and the Alexander Nevski church. I didn’t know if it was the pure innocence that this day brought or the white walls of the buildings, but I felt lighter. We walked and talked and I couldn’t feel my feet stepping on the damp ground. I was weightless. After a 10 minute walk we reached the National Theatre. He smiled at me with his childish charm. I couldn’t believe he remembered that this was my happy place. I have never enjoyed a can of Coke that much. My thoughts were flying in all sides. His small gesture, his effort to remember a useless piece of information made me feel like a princess. I could suddenly see myself dancing with a beautiful prince like the happy endings of the Disney classics. I have let him in. That was it. My world was spinning…
It soon started to get dark. Five hours had passed like 5 minutes. I was looking at the fountain, where young people were sitting. You could hear the clashing of cans, the laughter of people, the ringing of mobile phones. These seemed so irrelevant and distant. I laid my head on his shoulder and I felt like I am in eternity. I was feeling something, but I could not define it. Suddenly, a tornado of memories started in my mind. I remembered the first time we met in “Bizarro”, the club. I remembered the first time we went out. We went to City Centre Sofia and watched “Iron Man”. I remember when he came home to check out my famous cooking skills. The oven was new, and as a result the chicken could easily broke your teeth and choke you at the same time. We have been out so many times and there is not a single one that made me sad. This person made me happy: insanely, eternally, perfectly and simply happy.
My head felt so heavy on his shoulder. I did not want to lift it up but I had to. I had to go there in the noisy company, at the bar, where everyone judges and no one thinks of how I felt. I told him I had to go. He walked me to the Palace of Justice, and soon I was traveling to Students’ Town alone, without him. I could feel my heart beating, so slow and sad. I gave the driver a fiver, and got out of the cab. The music was already so loud. I missed my happy place with him in it. This was a nightmare. I just sat there for hours, talking and laughing on the outside, but dying and crying on the inside. I started to realize that my happy place was a mirage. He was not in it, and he would never be there. We were different. I had my world and my friends, and he had his. What could he possibly do in my world? How could he possibly fit? I could already see the faces of my friends: strange, smiley, but not real. I could not do this to him! I cared too much! I could not think of my happiness rather than for his!
I couldn’t! I couldn’t! I couldn’t!
I wanted to get out of this place. I was not charmed even by the boy with the little scar over the tip of his lip. Even he was irrelevant now. Tears started building up in my eyes, and I started rushing through the crowd, desperate to find my way out.
Someone pulled my arm. I turned around. The mysterious color of his eyes made me angry because I could not define it, but at this moment I did not even care…

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Happy Endings: Why They Don't Happen?

The childhood of everybody is full of stories with a happy end. They happened to appear in the all time favorite fairytales. Cinderella put on the glass slipper and married the prince. Snow White incidentally spit out the poisonous apple and lived happily ever after with prince Charming. What if there was another girl with small size that matched Cinderella’s foot? Or maybe Snow White did not fall dead because she choked and she was really food poisoned? This is where real life happens. People become so cynical and distant from the happy endings that they forget to try and fight for them. I couldn't help it wonder: how are happy endings supposed to happen if people never do the grand gestures?

I have always admired people that are able to apologize. I really believe in the power of the simple “I am sorry.” It has the power to open the doors of most people’s hearts. Recently I met the person that rocked my little perfect world of happy people that received apologies and lived happily ever after. I have to admit that I hurt him. The sentence is: GUILTY. I know people that make grand surprises, nice gestures, and everything possible to get mercy. I just apologized but not once or twice! Yet, my success seems to disappear like the Fairy Godmother.

Yesterday I had an epiphany. How am I supposed to be forgiven if I am so proud and scared of doing something meaningful for a person, who means that much for me? In the world where romance sounds cliché, love is an illusion, and physical beauty had replaced the value of the soul, people had become so concerned with their own pride that they are afraid of showing love and care. I don’t want to be that person, so maybe I will go and buy the perfect gift, get a cab, and stay in the rain. Even if he does not forgive me I will know that I am the girl who made the grand gesture to earn the trust of the person she had hurt.

Maybe there was a girl that matched Cinderella’s foot, and maybe Snow White could have been food poisoned. These events would have certainly influenced the happy ending. They did not happen, though. A chance was given to the survival of happiness. People really are cynical, and they are scared of exposing their souls, but it’s the few people that try to make a change that matter. Fear is not an excuse, it’s a shelter. People are supposed to get out from there and try to make the happy end happen.