Melancholy Mispelled Thoughtfullness

I have written about this boy before.  I write about him again now.  I don’t know what it was.  Maybe it was because we were both travelers.  Maybe it was because we were both willing to spill our feelings onto the floor.  Maybe it was because we both played tennis.  Maybe it is the magic that exists between strangers only. Or maybe it was because we both liked good music.  Who’s to say?  But whatever it was, we were able to have one special moment with each other.  It was one night.  Maybe it was because I was so used to goodbyes and parting ways, but I knew that we would only get one night with each other.  I knew that the way we were able to talk to each other, the way we connected… I knew it was all under a time limit.  After a night of confessions and connections and indescribable feelings in the air, it all came to end just like I knew it would.

At that age I was still embarrassed when he and I came down the elevator together in trampled clothes that we had been in the night before.  I was embarrassed about people making assumptions.  But I knew these were our last few moments together that we had before our time together ended.  So as he helped me with my suitcases into the taxi, I only thought of him.  I didn’t think of all of the faces we knew in the lobby who were leaning over, peaking at our odd exit from the elevator to the front of the hotel.  I gave him a big hug and closed my eyes.  And now was the end of our journey together.  In life, we share moments with strangers.  Those moments may stay in our head, but they are forever lost.  Most of the time, you can’t get it back with that person again.

Driving away in the taxi.  I went against what I thought was best and looked back at him.  There he was.  It was like turning around and seeing the end of something that was already locked shut.  That was all there was.  I closed my eyes and leaned back on the dirty seat.  That was it. It was gone.  Pain can come in many ways, and here it was, in a peculiar way…a way I was somewhat familiar with…But it seemed to hurt the worst every single time it happened.

When I arrived at the airport, I was able to check my email.  There was already an email in my inbox from this boy.  I wish I had saved that email.  But I remember it quite well considering the time that has elapsed.  It was one block of a paragraph that, I could tell, was written in a kind of a panic.  There was a lot of confusion and fear and sadness mixed within all of the nice words said.  Although I cannot quite remember the exact words, I can recall much of what the email had read.   It was him.  He told me that as soon as he had watched the cab leave, he had run upstairs and started this email.  He had explained that he felt like he should have done something or said something but he didn’t… He was so happy last night and was glad he met me.  He said he wanted to keep writing and stay in touch.  He said he would always remember it and hoped I would too.  Everything was rushed.  I could feel the bewilderment in the letter, because I could feel it in myself.  It was like trying scoop up and drink a puddle of evaporating water. We both knew that last night was all we were lucky to have with each other.  The end.

My next destination was Europe.  Arriving in Barcelona, I had an email from him.  I wrote back in Serbia.  I received something in my inbox while in Croatia… The emails became shorter and shorter.  We both had so much going on for us.  It was hard to find the time to write.  A lot of our conversation had fallen back onto that one night we had had.  We talked about the connection; the magic.  But as time went on, we could not recall as much.  It began to become hard for us to recall much at all.  The one thing we kept coming back to, our anchor was the playlist I had played the whole night through while we talked: Melancholy Mispelled Thoughtfullness.  We loved and cherished every song on that playlist.  He had similar tastes in music (I’ve found out some great music from this person).

But… the emails ceased.  The conversation slowed to a trickled.  And now all I have is a play list on my Ipod and vague memories of him sitting on my bed with a hoodie that help me believe it was all real.  He sent me a message just the other day.  It was a link to another good song I had to check out.  We still somehow, after all the space and time between us and that night, care for each other.  I still think about him sometimes and I’d like to believe that he still thinks about me ever so often.  Just here and there.  But sending me new music was proof that I have crossed his mind at least once.  I visited his Facebook page (dangerous to a lonely soul) and went through pictures of his life.  Everything I had missed since that one night.  He’s a man now.  Not the little boy I met in Mexico for one night.  He has grown so much.  I have missed so much.  I take a deep sigh, reminding myself that I have one night with him that no one can take away from me…or him.  Maybe I should give that night away.  Maybe if I let it go, I wouldn’t be on his Facebook page, admiring his life that I somehow convince myself that I am connected to.  But my hold is strong, and if anything, I am a stubborn girl.

I asked him for permission to use the pictures that I have posted throughout this post.  Isn’t he just a handsome young man?  Muy Guapo.  His life seems so vibrant and full of life.  I would want my life to look something like this.  I like to think that I know him; I guess i’m still holding on to that night like an old man who holds onto “those good old days” when he was a kid and used to “be the fastest on the track team.”  I am guilty of that.  But these pictures speak to me…It’s like I get to see a flower bloom to it’s fullest when I had only seen it when it was just a seed.  Look at him now.

Maybe I’m not one to ask because I only knew him for a night.  But I think he is a beautiful person, inside and out.  I’m just grateful to be able to say that I know him; that I met him and that I was able to pick his mind for a night. I think there is so much about him that stirs the soul and I hope he never stops sending me new music…even if it’s every year or two.  I just want our peculiar friendship to continue, even if it slow and soft and almost not even there, like a nice summer breeze.  I just want to be able to smile whenever something reminds me of him or that night–to know I took something from that night that I’ll never lose.

You’ll always have a little piece of me…

Sincerely,

-IsGreenJaded

P.S.  Thank you for letting me use these pictures…