I had a dream. It was a peculiar one that had the fragrance of nostalgia scented all around it. They were episodes of familiar emotions that produced such a familiar nostalgia as I woke. Perhaps it's the month that triggered such a series of events in my mind like a rookie novelist finding words to write inspired by the change in seasons: the mysterious, unbeknownst time when winter turns to spring and spring to summer.
I find it fascinating how scents can be a tool to trigger memories in recent and far pasts of the mind of a 24 (soon to be 25...) year old. It's as if it were a universal language that any human being is well acquainted with, yet, it holds a unique power that only the individual can translate.
14 more days and it'll be 6 years and counting.
"Like an old mother staring at an age old epitaph, I still wonder what it would be like if you were still around. I let my heart sink in to view the stench of Earth's death with eyes like eagles, wings caught in Summer's breeze and fixed on the panorama--its endless--as my heart pleads the please."
I don't know about the rest of the world, the society I live in, even the sphere of influence that I have around me, but I feel as if the passing of a loved one inevitably triggers your mind to think about all of the relationships you have, or, acquired. Perhaps it is this month that brought about an unwarranted nostalgia.
She can be so rude. Barging in uninvited. In one context, she can become the life of the party sparking old romances with old crushes. In another, well, she becomes the undesirable reminder that you're just a hopeless romantic that cannot seem to find love. Sappy. I know.
Strange. As I recall the moment she barged in as I awoke, she stayed only a brief moment like a crow landing on your porch with a single caw and flying away as if it saw what it needed to see.
She's a powerful one this nostalgia. She has the power to freeze time, or, rather, retard its tempo to such a degree and allow the mind to recall almost a quarter century of vivid memories--details only you can remember--in a span of a minute, maybe three. Not only the vividness, but the joys.
The emotional and annoying part of this all?
The nostalgic joys of pleasantries and company (namely you, yes you (and yes this is a slight tangent)) did not match up to the claims on my reality. It reminded me of how beautiful I thought of you when I first heard you laugh and the irreplaceable moments when words were not exchanged, yet, your presence was all I needed to breathe in. Because in those moments, I thought this hopeless romantic heart of mine actually had a beat and rhythm and finally found the one who shared the same.
Enough of my crap. I end with this:
"Elmer Yoo, behave up there, don't be flirting with them pretty angels".
Sincerely your little brother who has way too many useless problems to deal with and deserves an ass beating from you,
Joseph Sky Yoo
P.S. I'm way older than you now, so I guess that means you're MY little brother. Sucker.
P.S.S. I can almost see you beating my ass for saying that just now.
P.S.S.S. I'd give anything in the world for you to beat my ass for a good minute just to see you one more time...even if it is on the floor with a busted nose and a raccoon eyed face. I'd be smiling the whole way down..
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