” Have you seen my bike’s keys Mom?” ” No dear, I believe you didn’t left it downstairs after returning back from your college yesterday.”
I was pretty sure I had lost them at a place I couldn’t think of now. I even believed that I had a valid reason for my incompetent behavior, after all I had a terrible day due to an argument with somebody I adored and loved.
While searching for the keys, I found myself staring at a wooden casket which had a place under my bed, catching dust all these years, waiting for someone or the other for it’s reincarnation. Bored with it’s own life, the box looked dull, I wonder what did it thought each day, while seeing somebody or the other passing through . I knew that there was no way that i might have had kept the keys in the box, yet somewhere, a part of heart compelled me to open it. I wonder what did it thought of discovering.
The box opened with an outcry filled with peace and harmony, the insides on the other hand had caught a thick layer of dust upon them. Upon cleaning up the mess, I found that I had much to look at.
There were pictures, toys and other weird stuff that I would have had never thought of to look at again. The first thing that caught my attention was a toy seeking a new friend for it to play with, for it could bring joy to somebody when it has no value for me any more, yet I missed the days when life was simple. I closed the box after picking up a diary I found, keeping the box aside I sat upon my bed and started reading it, it comprised of tits and bits of the life I once owned, a life that was lost before I knew it.
While closing the diary a picture came flying by it’s pages, upon looking my eyes recognized that the picture was of a girl I once adored, never realizing that everything I once loved, had transformed into everything I lost. I wondered why was the picture still with me, possibly it was always there, waiting for me to unfold the pages one day and find it to look at what i once had. Supposedly everyone has an inventory of lost things waiting to be found, yearning to be acknowledged for the worth they once had in one’s life.
I think of you in the end. ” What of you?”. I believe I must find a place in your hidden inventory with great patience, waiting for you pick me up once and remember the times when we were together. I now know that nostalgia is a dirty liar that insists things were better than they seemed.
“You know that place between sleep and awake, that place where you still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you. That’s where I’ll be waiting.” ( lines taken from the novel ‘Peter Pan’ by J.M Barrie.)