uitwaaien

(v) to take a break, to clear one's head; "to walk in the wind."

Category: once upon a time

“Wishful Wednesdays”

An old lady came over to your house every Wednesday. Wednesdays were when I would sit down on my front porch and hear misplayed piano keys and frustrated groans coming from your living room. It’s already the 10th Wednesday of the year; and I have heard the same Titanic piece being played over and over again but you still never got it right. Darling, you kept forgetting that you don’t hit that E note once. It’s twice. I wish I could run over there and guide your fingers to perfection but the best I could do was admire your beautiful mistakes from a distance.

Whenever I would hear footsteps walking down your front door, I’d rush inside my house and watch from outside my window as you said goodbye to your teacher. She must have had experience on a lot of children or grandchildren because I don’t think anyone would have that much patience to try and teach you piano. It still makes me laugh how your mother made you take up piano after your great grandfather because everybody knows that you would die trying to play even just the triangle. You were never a musician, just very athletic.You always look like you did a 10K run after every piano session when in reality, your track practice was only on Fridays. Your weariness never stopped you from waving back with a smile and I always admired how you were like that around people. You walked back inside your house and I pulled down my curtains as I wondered why I knew so much about you, when I never found the courage to be friends with you.

An Excerpt from a Story I’ve Never Written

“Intersections”

Before

Hand-in-hand we walked together down the block. I felt safe like this. It felt safe like this. There was a difference between being together and being together. And I was lucky that with you, I had both. We were about to cross the pedestrian when you stopped abruptly. I didn’t know why. I squinted my eyes and my gaze was fixed on someone across the street. A brunette with ratty hair and skinny jeans. I looked up at you knowingly. But your stare was straight ahead.

A slight smile spread across your face and for some reason, you looked relax. It was that look– probably that feeling, you got when you’re dreading a text, an email, from someone important to you. You wait even longer; and the dreadful feelings continue getting stronger. But then the other person replies. And you sigh with relief as your face slowly turns calm. It was like carrying a huge boulder on your back, and that person carefully lifting it off of you. Because you know that with that reply; everything is all good now. Everything is okay.

“Hey,” you said. “I know her!”

And I always wondered why you stopped for her and why you smiled for her and why you didn’t say “I knew her.”

After

Months have passed and people still ask me if I still love you. Every time I get asked this question, a thousand memories flash before me in a millisecond. It was like flipping through old photo albums in fast-paced. And then suddenly, I remembered us. Our memories like a montage etched at the back of my mind. But regardless of everything, I always know how to respond. Reality hurts you, I know. I’m sorry. But it is what is true. It’s always been “I did.”

You broke my heart and yet you still wonder why I no longer say “I do.”

– An Excerpt from a Story I’ve Never Written

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