Little Red Z In Memory
It’s been raining almost all day, since i woke up this morning. Okay, maybe ‘morning’ isn’t the correct time – more like ‘somewhere between morning and noon’. That’s one of the good thing that you can do when you’re not bound by a contract to get up, start work, and end work at a certain predetermined time – you can wake up whenever you want to. Okay, what I meant was, you can wake up whenever the dogs want you to. Coz by the time they decided it’s time, you can never out-sleep the noise they intentionally make by scratching and kicking your bedroom door, barking at your bedroom door, and –yes, you’ll read this correctly– one of them peeing at your bedroom door. And I still open my bedroom and kiss those little rascals, everyday, every time.
It’s still raining. The boys are taking their naps. The house is quiet. I’m having flashbacks of me in a little red car with a Z license plate. Seemed like a lifetime ago. It was raining too that day, cold, I was wearing a brown long bohemian dress. The car was stuck in traffic. Felt like hours and hours, that traffic. There were songs playing through the stereo that I didn’t like, coz those kind of songs made me melancholic-ally mushy. Did you know I let one tear rolled down that time in that car? Did I tell you that? Well, now you know. If I had a remote control, I’d press rewind and go back to that car. No matter how bad the traffic was, no matter how the weather was being unfriendly to my bohemian-chic style outfit that day, how bad the songs were, and the intangible yet suffocating sense of impending farewell was…at least I was in the passenger seat – with someone driving – not sitting solo in front of the laptop as I am now.
The rain’s subsiding. I’m sipping my now-cooled-down coffee. I was thinking about going to get a little treatment for my hair, but with this kind of weather my blanket is wooing me with such persuasion. My blanket. I remembered there was a blanket in that little red car with a Z license plate. It was a black blanket, kinda worn out, but still thick enough to keep warm, and it had a smokey scent to it. Clove, nicotine and be perfumed. Sweet. It was tossed in the backseat, all wrinkled and messy from its last usage. I wondered if it caught my perfume too. I left a few tear drops and a slice of my being on it.
My messenger is beeping. Someone’s awake and calling. Gotta publish this now, I guess. It’s time to breathe.