Monday, March 1, 2010

Immortality with Melody


“When did you figure out you were going to die some day?” She looked at me as I sat by her side with my arms behind my head.

“I knew I was going to die—”

“Like at what age,” she interrupted to evaluate on her question, “did you know?”

“About six or seven, I guess,” I shrugged my shoulders.

“And what was the thing that made you realize your own mortality, Vatche?” She drew in her notebook some flying butterflies. Melody let her black hair roll down her face as she hunched her back and continued drawing.

“My grandma’s death, I guess.”

“You keep guessing. Did you know that?” She put her notebook down and stared at my eyes.

“I guess,” I smiled.

“I thought we were having a serious conversation for once,” she turned away, puffed her cheeks, and crossed her arms.

“Am I ever serious when talking to you?” I touched her lightly on the shoulder to get her attention.

“You’re either too serious or never serious at all,” Melody stuck out her tongue.

“Well, today, I’m a little bit of both,” I looked at the clouds in the sky, which reminded me of sailboats on the ocean. The park was a beautiful day to spend with a good friend.

“A little bit of both, hmm?” Melody put down her arms.

I noticed the trees brushed against each other and their shadows mimicked their movements. Children kicked soccer balls to their teammates only to be stolen by their enemies. Birds sang sweet melodies and people laughed as they told each other stories.

“Vatche,” Melody waved her hand in my face, “come back to Earth now.”

“Sorry,” I looked at her worried eyes, “I’m back. I’m back.”

“Good. I hate it when you go off to your own little world.”

“It happens occasionally,” I scribbled some of my thoughts in my own black notebook.

“Writing down some more ideas, eh?” She reached for the notebook, but I quickly put it behind my back. She tried to hug me and get her hands on the book. I raised the book in my hand high into the air.

“Let me see, let me see!” She jumped up and clawed for the book in my hands.

“Why should I?” I raised one eyebrow.

“Fine, never mind,” she turned away and crossed her hands again. “I don’t care about your stupid ideas anyway.”

I put the book down, “Good.”

“Oldest trick in the book,” she ran for my Idea Book on the table and snatched it.

“Damnit, Melody,” I gave a smile. She only stuck out her tongue at me; I actually enjoyed all her silliness. She always joked around and acted every age from five to fifty.

“This is some interesting stuff here,” she flipped through the book.

“Well, what else do you think of my random thoughts and scribbles?” I tried to grab the book from her, but she kept dodging my movements.

“Your movements are always so predictable, Vatche,” she continued to flip through the pages and laughed.

“Really?” I grabbed her and gave her a big bear hug. “How’s that for predictable?”

“Let me go! Let me go!”

“Give me the book,” I commanded as she continued to flail her arms.

“Only if you make a promise,” she stopped struggling and whispered into my ear.

“Why are you whispering?” I still had her in my hold.

“It’s a secret promise.”

“Well, what is it?” I let go of her and she put the book close to her chest.

“Let me be your muse,” she handed me the book.

“My muse?” I felt the hard binding of the leather-bound Idea Book in my hand again.

“Yes, your muse,” she shook her head, “let me write your ideas down in that book. I want to listen to what goes on in that big head of yours.” She lightly placed one finger on my forehead.

I grasped her finger with my right hand, “I don’t have that big of a head!”

“Well,” she took her finger out of my hand, “is it a promise?”

“Sure, but let me ask a question: why?”

“Because,” she turned around, “I want to be part of every world you live in. When you drift, I want to drift with you.”

“Melody,” I held out the book to her, “you don’t even have to ask.”

She grabbed the book and sat on the tabletop. “Where should we begin?”

I sat next to her and stared up at the skies, “We can start off with our talk about mortality.” She scribbled down some notes.

“How should we start it off?” She looked at me at her side.

“How about we start off with...Well, let me see what you have written so far,” I stole the notebook from Melody’s hands.

Mortality with Melody, was written down. I laughed.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I love that title.”

“Then, I’m doing a good job,” she took the notebook back and continued to scribble down notes. My voice guided her hand across the page and I drifted off into my world this time with someone by my side. Melody saw what I saw. She listened to my voice, her hand moved unconsciously, and her eyes dreamt. Another world existed beyond ours and I was her guide.

“Melody,” I looked at her as we drifted off to the new world, “thank you for being my muse.”

She smiled and wrote down the moment in her handwriting. Her writing will remain forever printed not only on those pages, but also in my memory. She will remain immortal now. No more will she question me about our mortality, because she wrote everything down.

We are now immortal within these pages.

4 comments:

jeannine said...

Great job Vatche. Really great job. I loved it a lot. Wonderful meaning and moral.Outstanding!!Keep up the great work!!

Vatche said...

Thanks for the support, Jeannine. I will definitely keep it up.

becca808 said...

what a sweet journey through words!

Vatche said...

It was and still is an truly an awesome journey, becca808. Thank you for your comment.

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