The one with Saturday Nights and Pretty Sunsets

Saturday nights, summers and sunsets is how it all began. The charm worked on me as I tried hard to not sway away into moonlight with a glittering desire to convert. And maybe, move on to the other side. But then that’s the thing about Saturday nights; they are so unpredictable. Just like this one is turning out to be. I might stay awake to catch a glimpse of the sunrise, just like the time we talked till the wee hours of the morning. We revisited mountains and white sand beaches and happy places and misadventures. Neither of us noticed when the gray of the night was splashed with an orangish hue. Isn’t it an irony that talking about travel the entire night is the reason why someone missed the morning flight?

Do you remember how comforting conversations paved the way forward. Do you remember, dear stranger, how it all suddenly started making sense? Nights melting into mornings and me waking up with a stupid grin on my face is all I remember. And then you asked. And did all the right things. I even looked forward to a vacation to come to an end because that meant seeing you at the airport. Though it all didn’t make much sense to me back then but today I know the answers. Not all of them are honey-dipped but I want to keep some of those words stashed away in the pages of an old notebook for a time in the future. Yes, I am organized and you already know that capricorns love making plans.

I loved sitting silently, side by side, staring into the horizon with sleepy eyes that won’t open. Cheers to travel, books, memoirs, adventures, poetry and everything else that converged to make that connect. That heartwarming feeling came back to me, the one which makes no sense whatsoever. Today, as we sit alongside yet another window, I wonder how surreal it all is- You, blending along with life as effortlessly as molten chocolate. And that I can discuss poetry with you. And the fact that you understand and appreciate feminism. Also that religion doesn’t really matter. Neither does anything else that divides. That’s a version of us, contemplating over pieces of a puzzle that seemed to fit.

And this, a version of me talking to a not so an empty chair tonight, wishing you were here. Yet another adventure in the hills I brewed. I can still feel the chill of the mountain air and the warmth of your words. Even though it wasn’t meant to be, it was still very beautiful.

The mist of these stories has a lasting fragrance, one which I am not ready to part with tonight. Time and travel will bring about yet another change sometime. Until then, I am happy sitting near the window, besides an empty chair.