In Continuum.

What Was...

"...It was where people talk about magic, the stage where discoveries about each other addes to the magic and how you feel nothing can go wrong. Uncertainty was not part of the vocabulary. It was just the tiltilation of discovery. There was no 'wrong',you know?..."

Reading through the handphone messages,sometimes you come across old messages,the ones that meant something when you read them,that stopped your heart,or made it skip a beat.The way they always remind you of something,good or bad,of yourself and someone else.The above was one of those messages,one sent to me from my dearest,a few nights ago arguing over the usage of "Eleven" and "Thirteen",something i guess,and hope,would go down our history as something both stupid and at the same time,brings a smile to our faces.

It was true,all too true,in a way.The messages,the way it captured that moment at the beginning of a young relationship.Sprouting from the soft soil,the beginning of life,a relationship between two people like the plant to the air around,living with each other and for each other.Right then,when it first peeks its head out of the soil,you feel the wind brushing against your soft leaves.Your stem sways gently in the quiet wind,enjoying the comfort of the world around you,pressing down on you with that soft effortless pressure,and the existence you feel,in this world,and everything around you,bounded to you and you to everything else.

It was that moment,that very moment when everything was fine,wasnt it?I never thought of the end,or thought of coming to the end at all.You know how we are all guilty of such thoughts?Such naive thoughts,thoughts like this.Thinking so short-termed,never the long term,so childishly disgusting.Who wouldve thought,who wouldve known?I thought that you'd never leave,you'd never go.But what do i know,what did i know.

The afternoon,i woke up from a sleepy nap after a quiet afternoon rain.The road was wet,i remember,when the bus pulled into the bay and the sound of tires over the tarmac road.It was late afternoon,and the road glistered with an orange glow,as i boarded the bus to the mall to get the brownies.Did i feel at all,did i sense the oncoming doom,the end of the line,then?

The cab ride,when it sped down the expressway and out of the exit at Dairy Farm Road.The view outside,obscured by the droplets of water still lingering desperately to the surface of the window,i still recall.Did i see it,then?Did i feel it,when the driver couldnt find his way?I didnt know about it,i realised.I didnt think anything was amiss,back then when i had the warm brownies in my bag and the card,carefully written over pencil-drawn lines and later erased.Who wouldve thought,that two months down the road those brownies,that card,that trip wouldve have meant anything,to anyone?Who wouldve known?

It was that evening,do you remember?Do i remember,because you dont?Under the setting sun,under the big tree right next to the playground.We were on the swings,and the seat was too small for me,and you laughed at the way i tried to squeeze.There were a couple of Filipino maids behind us then,as we sat at the playground,one of those platforms next to each other.I remember feeling your arm,your fingers against my pinky,the smell of your hair as i leaned in.The smiles,yours and mine,your mother's curious message,the imaginary you jumping up and down the suspended bridge.Did i know,then,with myself and you drowned in a sort of happiness,made believe or not?

It started drizzling,one of those tiny hair-like drizzles,the way they fell through the leaves of tree above and splattered onto your skin and mine.The lightning streaked across the sky then,and i wondered if you needed to head on home.You said no,and smiled and told me that she had time.She had all the time.We had all the time.Did i,did we,then,realise that it was going to come to an end,the end of that tiny piece of happiness that we held on so loosing,so fragily for that moment in time,in our lives?Why didnt we tighten the noose,or held on so much more,a little tighter?

Three hours after dinner,three hours after we settled down in the park,and three hours after we started talking non-stop.It was a little past ten,and the rain cloud passed without letting loose its load upon us.You walked me down the darkened lane,the streetlamps in spots upon the damp road.You on the left side while i on the other,we talked across the road,as cars sped between us.We didnt care,did we?If cars did what they did,the way they interrupted our conversations.We were then,we were there,happiness.Pure,innocent,just simply,happiness.

It was then,i thought,as i took the cab home,the cab you hailed.An illusion,now that i realise,now that i know.I thought it was the beginning,the beginning of a sort of happiness that is going to last forever,or at least a long time.Didnt you think so,why did i think so?We did i feel it,the way my heart pounded against my chest as the cab sped away from you.Why did i feel that way,in that strange gloomy night,after three hours of talk with you,face to face in that playground.How poetic it was,wasnt it?I loved the way,both of us,that distance between us,bridged by that happiness i thought we shared.Or was it bridged,the gap?Was it crossed,now that i wonder?

It wasnt the beginning of happiness,but it was happiness.What was,i now know,was this happiness that happened in that simple moment in time,that innocent moment when we didnt have any hidden feelings,when i didnt have any hidden feelings to be exact,never had anything to hide from you.Why didnt i feel it earlier?Why was i so hypnotized by the idea of magic,the magic my friend mentioned.Nothing was,indeed,wrong with everything.Nothing seemed wrong,and nothing was going wrong.What was,was right.What was,was endless possibilities.What was,was you.Only you.

What was,now scattered like a net through a swarm of fireflies.How you try to catch them,how desperately you want to hold that light in your old jam jar forever,beats you to catching them at all.What was,is now gone.What was,remains as it is,disappeared though,becoming my mere past,my lonely,lonely past.It doesnt grow,it started begin to look like,or feel like a start,no matter how hard i try to think about it.It remains,as it is now,where it was,where it started and ended.Where it lived and died.That happiness,the way it bloomed and died,right then at that moment.It wasnt just happiness,then,right then.It was depression as well,vivid sadness right after the joyous moment that we had.

Clarissa Vaughn,"I remember one morning getting up at dawn, there was such a sense of possibility. You know, that feeling? And I remember thinking to myself: So, this is the beginning of happiness. This is where it starts. And of course there will always be more. It never occurred to me it wasn't the beginning. It was happiness. It was the moment. Right then."