Space —
These walls, they’re bare. Bare as the heart that I had once filled and full. These walls, with a fresh coat of paint and patched up holes. No longer barren, no longer bare. You’ve lost your home. You’re pacing wooden floorboards, new. Creaks from once before, lost to what it was. You’re aligning paintings where photo frames were once hung. You’re full, you’re filled; the chicken sandwich with dill, half in the refrigerator and half in you. You’re a hollowed-out soul with destiny to fulfil, with tasks to adhere to. A life to continue; blank pages, empty spaces to fill. Lines yet to be written, time waiting to be spent; love holding true. These walls, they’re bare even when filled. Length, width, and breadth; you’re marking down perimeter and setting up volume — all this space without furniture still. Curtains! Yes. Full-length with polished windowpanes and a smile, a smile so bright from the sunlight streaming in. Yes. Yes, the bed used to be there; you smile too where the table once had been — us stretching out with couch cushions a circle around. Closer to the ground, closer to you. You have time to spare, you have moments to fill. Yes, yes, right there. Laughter till sides have ached; no echoes for there was little space to spare. She had always been right there.
You run your hand along the walls you’ve turned green when they had once been a faint rosy red. The angry room! She would tease. Oh how she would laugh. As hands were held and lovers danced whilst companionship covered ground. Soft shoes, sharp spins, silly scenes…
Yes, yes, all the what had been and once was and never again will be.
Is it true that tears form differently in space?
-
All this space mom, are you sure you don’t want a new place?
No dear, this can be home again.
Are you sure?
Yes. I am. Your mother was here. Words carved into wood panelling by the fireplace.
Shall I stay? Keep you company for a few days?
It’s all right dear. I’m happy, I’m safe; I’m home — in this space.
-
Is it true that stars are the spirits of the dead?
-
“Promise me.”
“Hmm?”
“Promise me that you’ll make it in some way, again and again…
