A trip to memory lane
For over a week I keep thinking about a crumpled piece of paper.
It's a letter.
Several days ago, I decided to clean up my drawers. I’ve been collecting so many things that it was about time to take them to their final destination..
While dozens of tiny objects were forgotten over the years, I haven’t taken a moment to go through them all of this time. Still, I piled up new items every once in a while.
Impatient, sneezing squeaky from the dust that had risen, I take down a huge bag from the far corner of a cabinet. I notice that it’s overflowing. I swear, not even a strain of hair could fit in it anymore! So I went on looking for a box big enough and sighing deeply, I begin to move my stuff from one place to the other.
I never planned to stop at every little thing, I actually wanted to finish as soon as possible. I didn’t have time for this!
But eventually, I made some.
I spent a whole afternoon on my knees, beside a pile of stained souvenirs, tickets, letters, photographs, journals and toys.
That's my whole life, right there. Everything - ever since I started having inner conscious talks with myself, existential questions, dreams and sufferings. It's all there, crowded and mixed, all the joys and all the disasters.
I read some passages from my diary to my mom that evening. Yes, I kept a diary, from the 4th to the 5th grade. That year is captive in its pages. It's also an absolute thrilling comedy. I laughed so hard with mother, my face hurt. And with Andrei, too, after handing him the booklet that night.
There were 3 lines per day and at the end of the week there was a little section, under the title "do not forget".
I was manning myself up. A tiny creature, with long hair that fell to the line of my boyish pants that I used to wear back then, was writing: " Don’t forget love conquers all obstacles." Pff, Weeping between laughter, I wonder what obstacles I could have had back then? Probably distance, Harry Potter lived, however, somewhere in Great Britain, right?
I was touched by the simplicity of the perceptions I had in my childhood. The way our family trips to Metro, a local supermarket, always deserved mentioning, the Easter I spent in bed sick, or the way I used to fall in love, every other month with a new childish figure. At the end of the journal, a boy asked me for my friendship.
I accepted with a pit in my stomach deeper than any gap there is on earth.
It was a real trip back in time.
Partially forgotten, many objects in that box surprised me. My huge napkin or erasers collection, the anonymous love letters received in the first years of school, my first great crush, my very first kiss, our mischievous comments me and my girlfriends hid from our teachers..
Then the first paper bracelets from Midi, tickets to concerts, stolen shot glasses, still sticky, with lips traces from the lost night. Vows of eternal friendship, adorned with secrets written in golden ink, which were depleted over time and were brought to silence.
What surprised me most is our iron beliefs back then - the faith in the immortality of our friendships. Now I’m disappointed that even relationships like that, can die with the memories.
Former lovers and small, significant gifts. Dried leaves collected during walks in parks, while we drove no cars and never met our parents.
Vows, promises and dedications.
And then, there were my own words and writings.
You now find out that I was always prone to writing my experiences. The blog is not exactly something new to me.
About Dyrogue, I'm sorry I didn’t take a few minutes to capture the pile that covered my bed and the floor .. the box, the dust or the moments. My eyes were wet, so I probably wouldn’t have appeared in the photos this time. I may bring the box down again, after a truly premature time, to share a bit of it with you... I’ll think about it.
A single piece of paper I didn’t put back in.
It's a letter written by me, for me, in the future. Yeah, it seems I’m weird enough to do something like that, haha.
I forgot all about it’s existence until I got to read it, with my voice in mind. It’s written in the present, but set for the future.
And it starts in the same way I write my posts on this blog: capturing the moment. I was describing a random day of my life that I hoped would follow.
I don’t have words to tell you how I felt when I realized, that line by line, every word and every phrase, were describing today's reality ever so perfectly. I was stunned.
I anticipated everything. And biggest of satisfactions came from knowing that back then, I thought I was just writing down my dreams.
I take out a piece of paper and do the same thing again. On the top, on one side I write the current date, then I write the date of the day I’ll describe below. I anticipate another day in the future, now with more hope and more goals than I ever had.
I’m folding the sheet about 6-7 times and I shoved it to one side of the box. I’ll leave it there until it turns to history.
Leaving the 2nd day for a walk near the lake at Iulius, to rinse my mind and confess all the emotions I was holding inside from the night before to my friend, I felt relieved. Then, we also took some pictures, these too, are to remian reminders.
De o saptamana incoace ma tot gandesc la o foaie de hartie mototolita.
E o scrisoare.
Hotarasem sa fac curatenie printre sertare. Pastrez atatea lucuri marunte incat era cazul sa le duc la destinatia finala..
Nu mai umblasem acolo deja de multi ani, iar obiectele s-au tot adunat.
Nerabdatoare, stranutand ascutit de la praful care se ridicase, cobor o punga imensa din coltul indepartat al dulapului. Observ ca nu mai incape nici un fir de par in ea. Caut o cutie suficient de mare si oftand adanc, incep sa le mut dintr-o parte in alta.
Nu planuiam sa ma opresc la fiecare lucrusor, chiar aveam planuri si voiam sa termin ordinea cat se poate de repede. N-aveam timp!
In cele din urma, mi-am facut.
Am petrecut o dupa-masa intreaga in genunchi, langa un morman de suveniruri patate, biletele, scrisori, fotografii, oracole si jucarioare.
Acolo e toata viata mea, de cand am inceput sa am trairi interioare constiente, intrebari existentiale, vise si suferinte. E toata acolo, ingramadita si amestecata, trista si fericita.
Ii citeam mamei pasaje din jurnal. Da, tineam jurnal. Trecerea din a 4-a in a 5-a e captiva pe paginile lui. E totodata o comedie spumoasa. Am ras copios atat cu mama, cat si cu Andrei, inmanandu-i carticica in noaptea aceea.
Cate trei randuri pentru fiecare zi, iar la sfarsitul fiecarei saptamani aveam rubrica " nu uita ".
Ma imbarbateam, micuta, cu parul incalcit si lung pana la linia pantalonilor baietesti pe care-i purtam atunci. Imi spuneam ca "dragostea invinge orice obstacol". Pff, lacrimand intre rasete, ma intreb ce obstacole aveam pe atunci? Probabil distanta, Harry Potter locuia, totusi, undeva prin Maria Britanie, nu?
M-a induiosat la un moment dat simplititatea prin prisma careia vedeam lumea. Cum excursiile la Metro meritau mereu mentionate, cum mi-am petrecut pastele in pat, cu rubeola sau cum ma indragosteam lunar de cate alta figura de copil. La sfarsitul jurnalului mi-a cerut un baiat prietenia.
Am acceptat cu un gol in stomac mai adanc ca orice prapastie.
A fost o excursie inapoi in timp.
Partial uitate, multe obiecte din cutie m-au surprins. Colectii de servetele, de radiere, penare scrijelite.. Scrisori de iubire, anonime , primite in primii ani de scoala, prima mare pasiune, primul sarut, biletelele rautacioase cu prietenele pe sub ochii invatatorilor..
Apoi primele bratari de hartie de Midi, bilete de la concerte, pahare de shoturi furate, inca lipicioase, cu urmele buzelor din noaptea pierduta. Juraminte de prietenie vesnica, impodobite cu secrete inscrise in cerneala aurie, care s-au epuizat in timp si s-au redus la tacere.
M-a surprins cel mai mult convingerea noastra de atunci, increderea in nemurirea ei, iar acum sunt amarata ca intradevar si relatii pot muri o data cu aminitirle.
Fosti iubiti, cadouri mici, semnificative. Frunze uscate, culese in timpul plimbarilor in parcurile Clujului, pe cand nu aveam masini si nu ne cunosteam parintii.
Juraminte, promisiuni si dedicatii.
Apoi sunt si inscriptionarile mele.
Afli acum ca am fost mereu predispusa relatarii in scris a experientelor mele. Blogul nu e tocmai ceva nou.
Amintindu-mi de blog, imi pare rau ca nu m-am desprins cateva minute sa surprind mormanul care-mi acoperea patul si podeaua.. cutia, praful sau momentele. Eram plansa, eu n-as fi aparut in poze de data aceasta. Poate am sa o mai cobor o data, dupa o perioada prematura, sa impart putin din ea si cu voi.. ma mai gandesc.
O singura bucata de hartie n-am pus-o inapoi.
E o scrisoare, scrisa de mine, pentru mine cea din viitor. Se pare ca sunt destul de ciudata sa fi facut ceva de genul, haha.
Am uitat cu totul de existenta ei, pana am ajuns sa o citesc, cu vocea mea in gand. E scrisa la prezent, dar plasata in viitor.
Si incepe in aceeasi maneira in care imi scriu si postarile de pe acest blog: surprinzand momentul. Relatam o zi aleatorie din viata mea ce speram ca va urma.
Nu cred ca am cuvinte sa iti spun cum m-am simtit cand am realizat, ca rand cu rand, fiecare cuvant si fiecare fraza descria perfect realitatea mea de azi. Eram uimita.
Am preconizat tot, iar cea mai mare satisfactia o am stiind ca pe atunci consideram ca notez doar vise.
Scot o coala de hartie si fac acelasi lucru. Intr-o parte scriu data curenta, apoi scriu data pe care o descriu mai jos. Imi anticipez inca o zi din viitor, acum cu mai multa speranta si mai multe teluri decat aveam atunci.
Indoi coala de vreo 6-7 ori si o indes intr-o parte a cutiei. O las acolo, pierduta, pana va ajunge istorie.
Iesind a 2-a zi la o plimbare, langa lacul de la iulius, sa-mi clatesc mintea si sa-i vars prietenei mele toate emotiile pe care le-am pastrat cu o seara inainte am facut si cateva poze.
At the end of the day, my conclusion was: collecting those items is probably my greatest achievement so far.
I will continue to do so, but adapted to today's world.
Now I write thoughts, ideas, goals and dreams ... on the blog;
And the most unexpected moments of clarity, I'll just write down on something at hand, like my phone.
Any thought is worth relived, because we're already different people from one day to the next, let alone after years.
P.S. If you are a mother, give your kid a diary and encourage him to use it.
Concluzia pe care am tras-o la sfarsitul zilei, a fost urmatoarea: colectionarea acelor obiecte e probabil cea mai mare realizare a mea.
Voi continua sa o fac, adaptandu-ma la ziua de azi.
Scriu acum ganduri, idei, teluri si vise... pe blog;
Iar cele mai spontane, de moment, le notez intr-un fisier pe telefon, la andemana.
Orice gand merita retrait, pentru ca suntem alte persoane de la o zi alta, daramite dupa ce trec anii.
P.S. Daca esti mamica, daruieste-i copilasului un jurnal si incurajeaza-l sa-l foloseasca.
If you like my new jacket, you can shop it on ChicDiva. It was a most wonderful gift I got in a warm, winter afternoon.