Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: In-Law(s) (05/08/08)
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TITLE: The Reality of Love | Previous Challenge Entry
By David Johnston
05/14/08 -
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After that first night we spent together - a night of tears and repentance, of promises and grace – I remember the feeling of belonging; I remember the feeling of comfort; I remember walking along the road full of good intentions and hopeful thoughts: the river flowing beneath the bridge, I ignored the storm debris and admired the patterns the swirling water made; a pretty girl walking by, I smiled and looked away; a crackle of thunder, a threat from a long-haired youth, a cry of pain from another as the city reared its stormy head but I looked for the sunshine. Standing beneath those dark clouds, next to that church which towered over this intersection of life and reality, I felt able to know you more fully than ever before. It felt like your arms were encircling me, that I was becoming one with you, that my life would be forever linked to yours. Together with you, I became new.
A letter, a leaflet, landed on my floor, falling from the heavens, almost as if your hand were directing me. Do you remember inviting me to that weekly get-together...? An opportunity to meet your father as he would conduct his usual ritual, the whole family gathered round to anxiously (me), joyfully (you) listen to his words, proclamations, his desires for us. Do you remember that I was nervous but that you encouraged me? You would be there, of course you would; my future in-laws would be nice to me, how could they not?
I felt like an outsider as I entered the imposing building, hoping to find you inside; I looked around, felt alone and waited. To my left a young boy, obviously wanting to be there less than me, texting his friends – should he not be listening? To my right, a couple of girls (your sisters?) giggling to themselves – should they not be quiet? Just ahead, a dozing man, head jerking to the tune of a tired puppeteer – should he not, why is he not, why? A face I was slow to recognise on the other side of the building - that long hair - silent as he appeared to listen with rapt attention to your father at the front performing rituals I didn’t understand, expecting me to say words I didn’t know. I was alone with a family that wasn’t mine, a group I wouldn’t choose, in-laws whose resemblance to you was like sunshine to rain.
I left, trying to remember your face, your words. The clouds gathered around the church spire which had once seemed to point to an eternity together. I crouched on the bridge, the rain weighing me down as I stared at the church door, as I watched the hypocrites leave, cheerful goodbyes as their cloudy faces squinted into the rain. The rain dripped from the cursing youth’s long hair as he passed before me; the water running down my forehead, misting my eyes as forever it seemed there would be a stain on your image in my mind’s eye: the taint of my hypocritical in-laws clouding your beautiful, heavenly features. No longer were we the world; no longer were we alone; they were in you as much as me; and all I could do was to lean back on the bridge, my tears joining the rain escaping life as it flowed away towards the sea, and to try to remember the love we once held.
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I like your style, and I appreciate you sharing this. I enjoyed reading it.