Friday, August 22, 2008

smell of memories

She sighed. And then stared at the pile of clothes dumped on the floor. She still had to sort it out. Another sigh escaped her lips.

She padded over to the pile, bare foot. The pile of clothes. His clothes. In a moment of madness, she had thrown out all his clothes from the wardrobe. Now she sat down on the cold floor, her thin, long cotton t-shirt doing little to keep her warm. The one he loved...

Pushing away the thought, she delved into the depths of the pile, her white, almost translucent hand looking lost in the vastness of the dump. Her bony fingers sought a black fabric and tugged it out. It was a shirt, worn and faded over the years.

Without any preamble, memories came floating by, in front of her eyes. It was in the kitchen, when she was cooking their first dinner together, that he had wrapped his arms around her…wearing this very shirt. She had turned around, forgetting the open window, the burning dinner, everything - in the desire shining in his eyes…succumbing herself to him… and how he had laughed softly when she had got irritated at one of the buttons refusing to budge..

Wasn’t it in that very corner, where she had fallen, sobbing, and he had gathered her in his arms, consoling her softly, whispering words said only to a child, patting her head gently and rocking her till she wept her heart out…

He had held her then… she wished he will hold her now, and she could break down again…

She closed her eyes shut… tightly, as if doing that would hold the memories at bay… but then she saw his face, smiling at her, floating in the blackness… black like those nights she would hold him against her, and he would sleep like a little lost child, looking so vulnerable… ...

those lazy Sunday mornings, when he would give her a goofy smile, kiss her and pick her up, place her like a doll on the dinning table and proceed to feed her a scrumptious breakfast with his hands…

She got up suddenly, forcing herself to stop thinking, the black shirt still clutched in her hands. She unbuttoned it and wrapped it around her…

And it felt as if he was holding her again… his smell enveloping her, getting under each layer of her skin, warm and cozy, safe like home…

p.s. i wrote this post long time back on another of my blogs. so no, don't worry. all's ok in my world.

1 comment:

Khamakha said...

k, just tht. am at a loss for words..really.