when things were easier
Because of my recent immobility I stayed home throughout most of the weekend. By Sunday night, I was itching to see more than the four walls of my room I couldn’t resist the urge to get out. What was supposed to be a short drive to the corner convenience store ended up to be a longer trip. The night was deep and the road long and empty. Who was I to resist? I drove past the place where that café used to be. We stopped going there a long time ago but I still remember how we’d all meet there in the middle of the week, textbooks and notes in tow but never really studying. We’d chat as conversation wandered into the most trivial of matters and laugh as jokes became about the most mundane things. It didn’t matter though. Between sips of iced tea and puffs of cigarettes, our eyes would meet and we’d find comfort in the familiar.
We’re all worlds apart from who we were back then. We bear more scars and walk with heavier loads on our shoulders. We meet because we never get to see each other anymore, not because we just simply enjoyed each other’s company. Somehow, that fact has weighed down on us. Now we’re burdened with having to make most of such rare occasions; updating each other by rattling off a timeline of events hoping that it would give the others an idea of where we stand. We talk about more somber and important things. Maybe we’ve grown a bit older. Or maybe we no longer share those small inconsequential things in common like we used to.
I’m not complaining over what we have now. I’m just saying, back then things were easier. We always had next week. Now the trip home alone seems harder. Now that next time isn’t so certain.
We’re all worlds apart from who we were back then. We bear more scars and walk with heavier loads on our shoulders. We meet because we never get to see each other anymore, not because we just simply enjoyed each other’s company. Somehow, that fact has weighed down on us. Now we’re burdened with having to make most of such rare occasions; updating each other by rattling off a timeline of events hoping that it would give the others an idea of where we stand. We talk about more somber and important things. Maybe we’ve grown a bit older. Or maybe we no longer share those small inconsequential things in common like we used to.
I’m not complaining over what we have now. I’m just saying, back then things were easier. We always had next week. Now the trip home alone seems harder. Now that next time isn’t so certain.