Yesterday when returning from a day trip, I stood outside with a group of people waiting for the same coach to take us back. It wasnt hot, but wasnt cold. We all gathered under a group of trees, everyone in their own groups, clicks, people they knew, shared interest with, and had known for a while. I sat there thinking of the different people, when I heard a familiar noise. Sounded like someone shouting, only they werent…and right in front of me a lady fell over. Her arms twitched up, eyes rolled back, and yelling she fell over…and for the next 20 minutes or so she had a seizure, and recovered. Something her friends and family reassured everyone, was normal.
But the noises. The ones that you just can describe. The look. The whole process. Everything about it.
On the way back, from the seat behind me, there was an especially rowdy group who from listening to, you could learn that they hadnt slept much the past few days, and as a result were wound up beyond measure. In between bits of conversation there were songs…and seat dancing, as well as knees in the back of the chairs….laughter and the all too familiar spraying of the drinks, mingled with the smells of cheep food and sausage.
On the way back, a song erupted from the back “One eye on horn flying purple people eater….” then a conversation about how it was a good thing none of them were purple, because that sung about monster, would eat them. More laughter, and more lyrics until the subject at hand had changed.
The words. The tune. Everything about the color purple.
And it all made me think about Molly. Who is fast becoming a forbidden name in my mind. A word that cant be mentioned, a memory to be kept at bay. Either fear of cliche, or fear of remembering, I cant be for sure.
Im going crazy, and thats all I seem to know anymore.
My thoughts have all drifted towards her, and as hard as I try…I cant keep them away. The decisions I need to make, have her scattered around them – even though the decisions dont effect her directly. I push her away, and try not to think of her. For various reasons, but mainly because I dont want to. Dont want to remember, dont want to think.
I would rather her memory go to that place that I dont think about. The forbidden area of my mind that just doesnt remember. But the harder I try, the harder it becomes…