A travel story, seasoned with love and lost and new discoveries.
I could almost envision your smile as you leaf through these photos. Your lovely green eyes would sparkle, emerald eyes the exact same shade as mine, as you imagine being here with me. And so I’d pack away each photo with a kiss, and sealed a part of my heart inside the box to send home to you. It would take days, perhaps weeks, for this package to traverse the sea and end up by your side. It made me sad, this fact that we were so far away from each other.
I know, with technology these days there’s no concept of distance. I could be in the Arctic for that matter, and it would only take me seconds to hear your voice. As it was, I was only in New Zealand and you in Australia. But we’ve never been this far apart before, not even when we went to different universities. And so I rushed out to the post office in the dimming light, eager to send you the photos and eager to return to my hotel early. I sorely needed a nice hot bath and a steaming cup of tea, and most of all I needed to hear your voice again.
I almost wished that the post service was as lightning quick as electronic mail. It would’ve been lovely if you could see those photos as soon as possible. I would’ve emailed you the whole lot, if only you liked that sort of thing. It was strange; everyone expected us, the children of the future generation, to be completely in love with technology. But I wasn’t and you definitely weren’t. From all these years together, I knew you better than I knew myself. And I knew for a fact that you’d prefer glossy prints over gazillions of megapixels sent over the internet.
But I had to tell you about my day anyway, and so I picked up the phone. Settling into the cushions of my hotel bed, I dialled our home number and waited for you to pick up. You answered after the fifth ring, your voice as excited as I felt.
“Jocey? Is that you?” you said, your voice a pitch higher than usual.
“It’s me, Norie, it’s me,” I said, choking slightly, “How are you?”
“Oh please, don’t tell me this trip had dulled your mind reading skills! You know perfectly well, Joce.”
“Oh, Norie,” I said lamely, “I know, I know, our twin connection’s still there. It’s just I was hoping...”
“Come on Jocey, let’s cut through all this inquiry crap. I fully intend to enjoy the last year or so here, and don’t you dare go and ruin that for me.”
“Don’t say that!” I told you, sighing internally that we have managed to start up this age-old argument again, “I just wanted to know that you’re happy, that’s all. And I also want to hug you, but that’s kind of impossible right now.”
“I feel the virtual hug, love,” you told me, “Twin connection goes far past mind reading, didn’t you know that? Tut tut to you, Miss Jocelyn Henry! But tell me about today...”
I stared intently into the mirror across the room as I talked to you. It got to a point where my eyes watered and my vision blurred, but I didn’t tear my gaze away for a single second. Looking at myself in the mirror made me feel like I was looking at you. It made me believe for a split second that I was talking to you, that I was home again. And for that one sweet second, it felt like everything was still the way it’s supposed to be.