I was ready to write another post, one about curiosity I started few days ago. However I started looking some pictures while listening to some music when I stumble upon one specific picture at the same time that the first notes of The River Flows in You from Yiruma started. My stomach turned and shrank and tears started bursting into my eyes without any control from me. It was a memory that came into my mind and then a strong feeling of nostalgia lodged on me. Then I couldn’t but continue looking through all the pictures from those times, when I felt safe, loved and carefree.
I might have been leading a simple and uninteresting life back then but I wouldn’t have asked for more in those days. Those days, those years, where I could sleep smoothly, like a baby, all night without interruption. I guess I felt safe. I could have bet my soul for him, even though he warned me not to trust anybody like that, him included… I should have listened… maybe…
Those days, when I neglected some important aspects of my life, aspects that make my what I am, but never felt wrong. I was filled with love. I was all love and I received a lot too, so there were no place for more, no place for fears, doubts, uncertainty… It was all love and trust, there was no search for anything because there was no space for anything else.
Those days even the dull seemed bright and special, even the curry and rice and the whole seasons of “Lost” and “Prison Break” seemed like the best plan for every evening. There was no effort required. Life was easy.
Those days the routine, the sendentary life, the materialism that hide the lack of few basic personal needs were silenced by the constant sound of Ice Cream by Sarah Maclachlan and All love by Ingrid Michaelston songs playing constantly in my ipod.
Those days I could switch off and let myself be loved and cuddled, hugged and soothe by the warmest cups of tea. Those days were the blush came from every deep blue stare and butterflies lived in my stomach wherever those fingers run through my neck, where the time stopped during those passionate speeches about skulls, human evolution and Christianity and I could but listen in awe to him.
Those days there was no search. Those days everything was into place, even if it was misplaced sometimes, and everything seemed to fit, the puzzle was complete.
Years have passed from those days. When a summer afternoon came and everything was broken into little pieces and life lost all its sense for a while. Years have passed and my life has a sense that have never been there before, however it have never felt that everything was in its place any more. Something was broken and since then the search hasn’t stopped. I found a meaning to my life, I found its purpose again, I found myself again but the search hasn’t stopped. And I’m afraid it won’t stop ever again. The innocence that made me believe that I could leave my life in other person’s hands has vanished. I learned that my life can’t be but in my hands and that I’m the only one that can take the reins of it. Something that seems now so obvious wasn’t such back then, in those days.
I felt overflown by nostalgia. Those memories. Those days that are long ago gone. Nostalgia. What an intense emotion. Few chapters have been written after that one, some are just waffle, something to fill the pages until another meaningful story came and shape the autobiography. New words are flowing now, new stories that one day, in the future, will make part of “those days” and will make me cry or smile, they will move me, they will make me feel thankful for them, for life.