ETERNAL ANNIVERSARY II: DEAR NOVEMBER
1:36:00 PM
Even if I really hate wearing my Chuck Taylor that is as old as my mother's complaints about my hardheadedness, I still wore that pair of blue high-cut converse shoes to walk my way under an immortalizing indigo horizon of that one very special afternoon of November exactly a year ago. Here I am. Still wearing the same old weary shoes, a faded dark semi-skinny jeans, a black French-made polo shirt, a hand-made necklace with a silver half-moon pendant, a 3-year old khaki guitar on my back, a Tom Cruise-inspired hair and a smile I never force to fake. I have to look good. She is waiting.
Gladness fills me as I see people now while I am walking on the streets. I see the traffic enforcer signal the vehicles telling them that he's off and another one's replacing him, the tan-skinned kids with their big bags and dirty school uniforms run and laugh while exchanging jokes going home, the stall owners pack the goods calling it a day while some customers make a last-minute purchase, and old couples hold hands, walking and smiling back to me as I meet them on the way. Our clock is indeed ticking fast, I tell myself. You take a breath in and before you breathe out again, millions of things are changing in this wide universe. I check the time on the Swatch on my left wrist. 5:03 pm. I am not late. 10 minutes she said is the grace period. There she is. I see her. Man, she's still beautiful. She always is.
I sit down close to her. I try not to do things wrong again. I maybe rich in dreams but I'm not a millionaire when it comes to chances. I remember her again telling me that if I have something serious to tell her, I should sit so that I can see the world wider. So I sit in the ground. The world is never bigger here. I finally smile and ask her, "How are you doing? Still feeling cool, huh?" I then touch her face the way she loves. Like I was spreading my palms gently on a blanket I can never sleep without. "Happy Birthday! Getting older aren't we?" I continue. She is always like this. She doesn't answer. But I feel her. And whatever. I love her.
I fetch the guitar from my back and before carefully taking its cover off, I first zip the pouch inside then fish the letter I made for her last night. "It took me almost 4 hours to finish this letter but it took me almost 2 weeks finding your requested lavender scent to be perfumed in this paper." I complain jokingly as I unfold the letter and lay it on the ground. I place the guitar and ready myself to play her High School favorite acoustic melody. I don't need any word to begin. My heart knows it's now time to start plucking and read the letter aloud to her. I know my heart can sing some lyrics it always wants her to hear. I know she won't speak and will just listen. She will always listen.
The letter goes:
"If I could spend an entire day just looking at your face, that would be better than all birthday presents I had all over the years. If I could just comb your hair by my hand every morning as your eyes shine along the early rays of the sun, it would be something lovelier than leaves swaying down on Spring season. If I could just carress you tight and put my chin on your shoulder as we watch the moonlight together silently with the winds breezing some timely tenderness, it would be more romantic than any other beautiful love song the world has ever heard. You know I love you. Since the day you came into my life then started making a fairy tale I only saw in movies, my heart has always belonged to you. You are special. Your love is immeasurable. I don't know how I can be where your love is. I made promises. See? Look at me. I am changing. I'll tell the world that it's you. I became like this because of you. Thank you for changing my then trivial and useless existence. Thank you for bringing my lost soul back to me. Thank you for letting my heart grow. Thank you for filling what was missing. And thank you for letting me live my life again. Your words are my divine sunrise and your smiles are my undying sunset. In another life, I promise you that we'll still be together. So to the woman who says she has nothing but for me she is everything, Happy Birthday! Change isn't the only permanent thing in the world. My love too. Believe me, I will ways love you."
I fold the paper again and stop playing the song. I pull another thing from the cover of my guitar. Red roses. I look at her eyes now. There she is. The world's purest lady. Still smiling. Not fading. Endless. I kiss her. I kiss her pale cheek. I kiss the photograph on top on her grave. I place the flowers in front of the frame. Been six years now but nothing's changed. "It's getting pitch dark baby. I'll see you soon. Soon." I stare at her for long. She's forever here in my heart. She forever will be.
6:09 my wristwatch declares. I am leaving the cemetery now, better be home. #
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