[[The past is always the best inspiration for me.]]
A Three Part Weekend Freewrite:
1. "I was thinking of you," I said
"I was thinking of you," I said and bit my lower lip. My head rocked downwards. It began snowing the moment y o u left the cleft of my lips. The yellow school bus roared its last goodbye and I stood there looking at him as if it would last evermore. Standing in the freezing cold I felt warm in his embrace. The dingy lantern glowed golden under the pile of snow on top as I told myself I would remember this moment. And I'd refer back to it when thinking of us.
2. He looked to the front door. "I can't believe it is finished."
There were two letters sitting on the table. The queen held them in her right hand and dropped them both on the marble countertop. She took a deep breath before walking into the sitting area off of the kitchen. She lived in a timeless dome in the clouds and was to mail both these letters to the young law student in 2000. He would be but a child. The letters were strings of thoughts pulled from the young woman's thoughts during these two set periods of time. The queen was to mail them to the struggling student to remind him of his future decisions. All of their future decisions; to remind them all that it's they that write the future.
The queen sighed -- and removed the crown from her head. She reached for the tea perched on the edge of the couch she was sitting. As she sipped some spilled on the edges of the envelopes she was about to re-read before she was to address and send them into a time of their own. Ahhh. But first she rested, time was endless here. Time felt good when she just took in the view of normalisty for a moment longer. It was still; for the moment, and godspeed did that feel freeing. And she exhaled, smiled slightly and laughed. Oh, how weird the world is?
December 25th 2020,
Dear Diary,
My brother-in-law is studying to take the bar examination that he hopes to leap over. There's a piano he bought for $25 dollar in his office/bedroom that he uses in his parent's room. He told me I could borrow it on amazon when I offered to take it back to South Carolina without any shipping costs. It's his stress relief; music.
The stool of said piano sat to the left of the record player. To the right wooden boxes of records sat not on top of each other; in between the two was the cheap electric piano that could be set to beats and rhythms. He would never be a musician, that husband's brother of mine. I'd known him since I was eighteen and we could really relate; because he was too busy climbing a mountain a lot like mine.
My sister is to be a lawyer around the same time. These two relatives live in two different states that could very well be two different countries. And I and my little family live in between whatever paths could have been at home with our ancestoral lands. 'Tis the damn season.
Love,
December 25th 2050
Dear Diary,
Things are much different in this day and age minus the sounds of the piano. The baby grand feels smooth. It has been polished and the grain feels soft when one rubs their fingertips along the smooth edges. It was as touching a woman's naked body for the first time; slow and delicate -- almost scared to move in the presence of this beautiful baby grand piano. The keys might have been black and white but it played tunes of gold and silver. My brother-in-law came over and he did not play it, not once. It has been days since that back-office he studied in during law school. It feels like getting to the end of a really good novel; a few loose ends and well, reincarnation will help with that, perhaps. I'd like to believe this is my victory run.
My sister was over for the holidays, both of them were there in the same house under the same room. My husband and I brought our families together and it's a new life indeed. It's an odd feeling to remember one's childhood; we thought it would last forever. Nothing does, and I am not afraid. I have long accepted the natural concept of death and rebirth; I'd like to believe I am enlightened, as does everyone writing a letter to themselves in thirty years.
I remember when we all graduated graduate school, my sister, brother-in-law and I -- I remember when he passed his bar and it was years after all the examinations were done that he looked me square in the eye and said, "I can't believe it is finished." He said that after I remarked about how long and dreary those days were; and He patted my shoulder. My husband and he walked to the front door, opened it, and left. They were oft to play golf and it had been a while since it had been so warm. Life is good, life is just like that baby grand.
Love,
3. A Full Plate on the Table
It was a full plate on the table and all I wanted to do was stuff it in my face and head to the bathroom real quick afterward. I did not even know who the fuck I am again and I guess that is for the better, right? So I can't even eat with these people sitting here putting slop in their mouth -- it all just feels so dirty. And gross to be doing this in public? Eating? It felt sexual and like everything I was ever ashamed of; so. I preferred to eat in private like most people prefer sex. Because, well -- trauma and insecurities.
I liked to vomit, it felt like a release, a relaxation, a purge of my entire system being cleansed by force and reflex reactions. I loved the feeling afterward when I can now breathe with a small stomach that has just been emptied the proper way in the toilet. She told me that my face had seen the inside of the toilet more -- fuck her. Fuck everything she ever said about me. I know that my friends love me. And I know there's something wrong with her.
And fuck it if tonight she is right, but tomorrow she won't be. I am trying to quit, we all are -- aren't we?
Thank you for reading my free-write weekend prompt <3