That Day

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This room felt so cold & stale, like no one had been here for a long time; no one making themselves comfortable. It had always been a place of safe warmth & middle of the night conversations that went on until we couldn't keep our eyes open & our sentences were running together. I sat down on the futon pallet, looking aimlessly around Donatello's bedroom. I wished for better days; but how awful is it that back then I thought my life was so stifled. I had felt so trapped down here after three, almost four long years. No sun light, no birds singing, no fresh air & time seemed to just wander through the rooms. All I had wanted to do was escape into the sunshine & start my life. After a while, the guys had all become like overbearing chaperones & maybe, I thought with disgust; maybe I had only thought I was falling in love with him back then, because I was bored.

I pulled the little wooden crate, tucked behind the book shelf, over to my feet. I wasn't hiding out in his room, so much as taking one last look around; an official goodbye. As I went back through the contents of the box, I sat the clothes & keepsakes aside on the bed, & found myself listless; staring at old photos. I wasn't even paying attention to them, just skimming through. Suddenly my mind stopped, focusing on a photograph of Donnie & I on the sofa in front of the TV. It wasn't so much a photograph as it was movement captured in a single frame.

In it, I was staring into the distance towards the person snapping the candid picture & Donnie was in mid flight; over taking me with arms & legs & a sumptuous kiss that covered half of the side of my face. I was caught off balance & as the camera flashed, our limbs were blurred by the sudden commotion. I had looked up just as Michelangelo had taken the picture; Donnie so surprised to come home & see me sitting there, even the cushions of the couch were captured in mid disruption as he had piled on top of everything to hug & kiss me.

He was so happy. Everything in his life was where he thought he wanted it to be. I had been gone to my aunt's for two weeks & when I finally came home, the guys were out on patrol. When he had walked in, I too was right there; where he wanted me to be. What he never knew was that I had sat there waiting, trying to figure out how I would tell him everything that had happened in those two weeks. I was lost between the urge to just blurt it all out in front of everyone & the idea that such things should be private & everyone needed to go away. Looking at the photograph now, I remembered how cold I had felt, how numb. The whole world I knew, my whole existence within it, was meaningless. I was someone else's idea. I had officially confirmed, in my own mind, that I had no control over my purpose here in this life. And as Donatello laughed & hugged me tightly, while Mikey took our picture, I thought only of how I would destroy his blissful innocence if he knew. What was the point of letting him fall deeper in love with someone that would bring him deeper disappointment than happiness.

The Ahh-ness of Things (or The Sentinel of Mono No Aware)Where stories live. Discover now