'Tim trying to save Timmy's life with a story' what an end. I really loved this book (the things they carried). After all haven seen the wars myself in my previous life I can sometimes relate. Although we didn't had much technology. It is surprising how advanced this world is. Anyways, I should continue my ritual.
"Mummy I am heading out."
"Where are you going? When will you be home? Don't come past 7 okay. Are you going alone?"
"Just to the bookstore."
Mothers are always asking questions. They can't help worry about their babies. They say no matter how much you grow up for them you will always be a kid. It's so sweet. I adore this. If I had been a normal teenager I would be mad, having lost her really young in my past life I have tend to cherish them. It only takes loss for you to truly value someone.
The bookstore was just walking distance from my home. Something similar to my previous home. It took me minutes to be there. I came in and like usual was greeted by the cheery smile.
"Hello!" Said the girl at the register.
I politely nodded in response and then moved from shelf to shelf. I bought two or three books. As I was about to keep it on the counter I saw this girl struggling with Maths. She has been bad at Maths since she started bringing her homework here. She is in tenth grade and I often help with her homework. Nothing much an advice here a tip there.
"Trigonometry?"
"Yeah! My teacher is a hot head and gets really mad when I don't do my homework. I happen to be his target student."
"Same pinch!"
"Only a target student can understand the pain of another target student"
We laughed. Then I started helping her. After which I paid and left. This had been our little ritual. It started simply enough, she was scribbling on the paper and I pointed the mistake. Ever since then it had been our little ritual. I don't know her name and neither does she know mine. We never talk about something else. In a way we are strangers and in a way we are friends. It's funny how you could feel comforted by someone's presence whom you aren't even close to. Some people have that way of lighting the room with a smile. She happens to be one of them. I have known many people like that. Some from this life some from the other one.
I headed down my next stop which was the flower shop. This was another one of my ritual had been for a long time. First head to bookstore and then to flower shop. I went to this place, nothing fancy just an old lady selling bouquets in a small shop. Once again I was greeted by her.
"Hello young lady! Which ones today?"
I quietly pointed. Once again I didn't know her at the same time I do.
"How many?"
"Just a small bunch."
I never bought to many. It was just how it was. Buying to many felt wrong, it just felt off. I dunno why but it did. I quietly payed and left. Buying books and flowers was a ritual or habit I carried from my previous life. The things you carry from your previous life can be something as heavy as regrets, grief, sorrow, pain, to something as important as memories, bonds, beliefs to something as tiny as hobby, quirks and small rituals.
Nobody from both of my lives knew why I bought books and flowers. For books, the reason was simple yet a little complicated. As a kid I was simply a book lover because I was very curious. And what made it special was that my father and I used to read before sleeping. It was our thing. Then when I grew up I felt it intriguing that someone far away writes on papers and then someone else far from that person reads it and despite not knowing each other they connect, they bond from nothing much but words, but fiction. A story of someone who doesn't even exists brings tears to someone's eyes who don't know them and never will. Then when I grew up even more, with all the guilt heaving on my shoulders I wanted to run away, away from everyone. I noticed when you look busy no one approaches you, so I pretended to be busy reading my books when all I did was open a book. I loved being away from people even do know. A book just became my wall, my mask from this world. Even now when I feel overwhelmed I don't cry, don't get angry, don't throw things around, I just open a book.
As per my flower obsession. They loved flowers and often talked about them. Especially her, she would often comment on them. She knew all their names and significances by heart. I remeber her telling me that these flowers were so beautiful so poetic, they are a token of joy, of gratitude, of hope, of peace, of eternity, of love. She said 'a plant is all brown and green till a flower bud pops up. They are so beautiful, they bring color to a plant' At that time I thought how poetic she was acting. But a flower seems like the most hopeful thing ever. Or was it them who were acting hopeful. I buy flowers as a reminder of hope, love, gratitude, peace and eternity, as a symbol of color, a reminder of them and as a reminder that a flower bears color to attract insects so that they would pollinate and as a reminder of the cruel reminder that even people like them can die and people like me can live and get such a beautiful place after dying.
It was always buying books and then flowers the shops were nearby afterall. For some reason I always bought books before flowers. Maybe because bookstore was closer to my home or perhaps because I like to hide myself before expressing.
I took a detoure and headed to my usual stop. A lonely bridge across the river. No one was ever there. I leaned on the railing gazing at the sun quietly vanishing in the river. Sometimes I just wanna disappear. Disappear into thin air. Disappear so no one could find me. Erased from everyone's memories. This world would be much better without trash like me lingering. No matter where I am, how I am, what I am, there is this one constant unwavering feeling 'Sometimes I just want to disappear.'