it’s one of those unreasonable nights where memories are span open over me when i look at the dark sky. the stories that come before me are countless; they took place under the same sky, the same air, and under the cycling constellations, all of which has been recording the voices of grievances as well as affections and love from people throughout centuries. most of them have been long deceased. most of these voices are left with only residues that take form in unaccessible memories.
it is within the night sky that i can see through my past times. normally the stars would remind me of childhood, of the vague imagery of my tiny hands holding binoculars from the balcony, trying to see what’s there assailing the sky other than the stars and dusty clouds. tonight, however, your voice is all i can remember when i set foot in my yard while looking at the sky. it’s within the night that parts of our conversations reappear, pushing me back several months earlier when I would expect to hear your voice and cherish our encounter.
i said this is the moon, it’s in its fullest and it shines bright. i said these are the stars, they are lining up in the constellation i can’t name, but they are beautiful nonetheless. i smiled telling you these general facts, and you listened, and the adagio rush of your breaths made me feel close to you while i’m on the phone. you said this is the night, it reminds you of childhood, of your grandma’s old house somewhere in bandung that had been long sold. you told me you missed the athmosphere, or how enormous the house and the yard were. you missed your childhood and i loved how you reminisced over it.
you told me this as if the imagery of it was still visible to you, and I could sense how much it meant to you. you said about how much you longed for your past time at that house, and you showed me the picture of you as a toddler: the version of you i can never have the knowledge of, which i could only examine and adore through a picture. these pictures unfolded pieces of you who once had existed, and i complimented about how cute you are, and how odd why memories could just creep in within the night sky.
i, in return, described how looking at this horizon would remind me of specific moments in my childhood because my neighbor used to take me up to the balcony, letting me have the binoculars to find out what’s there at the sky. i said that these night objects always fascinate me, and i longed for those times. i said this is the moon, there’s an old tale that says that an old lady lives over there, i told you this, and the world will end once the old lady is finished sewing up her tangled wool, and you cackled listening to this.
later we would keep on talking, reminiscing, and having a laugh before we ran out of things to say. you hung up and i still longed for your voice, but i didn’t have to worry because i had other days of talking and sharing things with you.
that night after the phone call, i stood for a while and once again examined the horizon. i got back to my room and your goodnight allowed me to drift off easy. taking a look at your old pictures and having a little access to your past time made me want to keep you.
tonight, it’s one of those nights where memories would creep in. in life, i learned that nothing will stick with me forever, but in memories, parts of our connections are preserved, and it makes me long for you again. instead of remembering my childhood, it is within the stars that i remember our long conversation of talking about our different past times that night. now you’ve been morphing into my past time, into something else entirely that has passed. i don’t know when or where i will come across your voice again: the voice full of gladness and excitement, at times is soft, telling me trivial matters I would hear in excitement.
i’m afraid that you will completely disunite, and i will forget how you sound like.
we lived different past times, different life, but under the same sky at the same time we used to breathe the same air in our innocence where the concept of us had yet to exist. and it’s within the sky that we sometimes are taken aback by the weight of the past. sometimes the weight of it will smother me. our long gone sharedness, and your vague voice smother me now: i long for it when i look at the sky, it fills me with intoxication of what could’ve been, but in that sharedness i also found comfort and a sense of rapture when i’m around you, allowing me to love.
it’s still strange how memories can just creep in like that. maybe those night objects recorded our conversation that night, and they beam parts of it toward my direction when i look at them with earnestness. we lived different past at one point in life, and now i can only smile at how you allowed me to know parts of it in our moments of sharedness, and right now as the time shifts, we are all only going forward into the unknown. it’s like coming back to the same cycle when we were nothing and innocent in this world: that our paths are diverging, and right now i can only move to move.
