I have a fleeting image of a glass bottle containing the best memories of my life drifting somewhere far at sea, bobbing up and down amidst the waves. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of it from afar, up, down, up, down, floating, it’s cork fastened so that the water does not seep inside, wipe or wash away those memories. In my mind, the bottle is always green, somewhere in my mind an association with the color has been made. Green for good, green for the lush abundance of ever growing love, green for when you see something or someone you want and you march on unflinching because green stands for GO! Grab what is yours, take what you want, DO NOT HESITATE.
I have a vision of the deep understated green bottle at sea, it’s color heightened by the dark blue uncomfortably cold waters, a metaphor for life in general.
In that bottle are memories, words that I have said, words that have been said to me by a parent, by a brother, by a lover, a friend, friends. Kind words whispered in hallways of that school I went to, or shouted over the wind as I sit pillion on a scooter, or burned on my skin beneath the covers or carefully enunciated over the phone at the mercy of a service provider that let me make international calls.
In that bottle are flashes of memories, playing monopoly throughout the night with someone I don’t talk to anymore, making a rum cake with someone who doesn’t speak to me anymore, watching the same movie over and over and over again the entire summer with someone who doesn’t live on the same continent anymore, underlining things in Harry Potter books with someone who isn’t anymore.
In that bottle are crusades I took on, some I followed through while others I gave up on. There are trinkets left behind by loved ones or by those I loved once. A scar on my left thumb when he tried to teach me how to chop onions finely. A beautiful scarf from a nun I gave a lift to everyday enroute work. Paintbrushes he gave me as an apology for something that never turned into anything. A YouTube video of him I play every time I want to see him but I won’t call. Hello? Can you hear me…. Adele’s voice drowning out the sound of his voice singing, new goosebumps replacing the old ones that memories incited.
I am a hopeless romantic in the mind of a fierce cynic. My green bottle looks pretty solid but I keep counting the days to when it finally stops floating. Chill, I just mean one of those huge ass waves might break it, stop being morbid and thinking about death.
Need to get my Master’s degree, so I shall sign off and go study Sustainability Regulation. Gotta get an HD into that green bottle yo.