A single monologue on childhood and memories
Remember when we were young? Not like in our twenties, I mean like really, really young. When we were kids, like eleven or something, remember that? We used to go to the woods in search of something, almost every afternoon, if we didn’t have to do homework or something. There were these abandoned houses on the edges of the field, one Summer two of the burnt, we didn’t know why, but we didn’t really care. The trees near them were all burnt as well, those that didn’t fall were left with a new black skin, so black it almost shined, like coal. We just walked there, at times talked about something, but our conversations, unlike now, weren’t important. We didn’t mind if it was hot or cold, as long as we weren’t bored. We found a car, it was right next to one of the houses, it hadn’t been driven for quite sometime, to anyone else it was just a rotting, piece of junk. But to us, somehow it was a goldmine for exploration. We searched the car through, hoping to find something fun, something meaningful, something we could take home, only to find out our mom wouldn’t want that “thing” inside her house.
Anything those days was important, even if it was just a piece of metal that looked like a weapon or an empty canister of gasoline, we didn’t play with them, we were passed that age, but there was still something about those things we wanted. Just a few days ago I was walking in those same woods, that same field. Yes, the car was still there, it looked worse than ever, if that was even possible. All of this just came to my mind, every little memory of this small place suddenly rushed into my head, like a tsunami of nostalgia. But it wasn’t that kind of nostalgia, something slightly different.
Now, the car, the piece of metal, the empty gasoline canister was… just a piece of junk. Rotting in that forest. This all just came in to my mind unexpectedly… I haven’t thought about you in a long time, too long. I missed you, I’m sure you missed me too. I guess I should have called at some point or something, but… I’m sorry.