A Walk to Remember ~Blogtember~
When a mate sent me a link to ‚Blogtember‘ I was excited and wanted to participate right away. Well, ‘I wanted to participate, but then rescheduled shortly after‘ might not be the best start for joining, still that is the way it is. I can give a thousand reasons why I won‘t make a regular posting to it, but as Jenni has said, ‚there are no rules‘. 😛
A particular topic has planted itself in my memory, though. I first read it was about ‘being afraid‘ and might of missed the ‘very‘ in it, but at that point the post had already been written. I am not desperately trying to find a connection that is not there, just to be able to say ‘Yay, I blogtembered‘, but since it was this what set off my entry today, I thought I needed to credit.
There are lots of things to write about concerning fear – I am sure, if we all had to name as many of the fears we have within 10 seconds, we would at least make it to five. There are big ones, small ones, those that paralyse us, some that we have learnt to deal with, others that drive us mad, some we do not even realize we have anymore. They can be blocking, but some are even necessary because they make us cautious. We need to face them to get rid of them and sometimes find that we should have done so ages ago, another time realize that when it happened was exactly the right moment.
Yesterday I have found myself back in an area I have spent a lot of time in, even lived there for a while, but ever since not returned to. Only while approaching the metro station it suddenly hit me, how familiar this place once had been. Walking down the streets I passed by houses and shops I had seen or been to so often and memories overwhelmed me with the force of an orcan.
There have been lots of good and nice times there, but also some of the worst I ever had to experience took place or started in those green and quiet streets and when I left it was not for good.
Like always when years later you return to a place you used to see on a daily base, you try and match it with the picture you have in mind. A few weeks ago I visited a house I grew up in and though I have never forgotten the house number I went back and forth to check if I was at the right spot. Other buildings still looked as if I had just time-travelled back, but ‚my‘ house must have been torn down and rebuilt. For several minutes I just stood there, lost in photos and movies in my head, listened to voices from the past. I would not have noticed anything from real life then. When I woke up I stared at the pink-purple walls of the Kindergarden next door and back at what I had tried to find here, but it was all gone and so I left.
Yesterday it partly was the same. I had a picture in mind and then saw reality. Shops had moved a few metres or completely disappeared, houses had been torn down and rebuilt. The only person I recognized was working in a fast food stand like he had been doing for about ten years. Continuing my ways I wanted to pass by the street I had lived in, but my feet would not let me, so I entered it with mixed feelings. In comparison to the other childhood-place I had not planned to come here, I was not prepared, but taking the bus to reach my actual destiny just seemed stupid. Two stations only and lovely weather, you get my point.
When I was younger I detested changes, I loathed them up to an extent that I would not accept them in my favorite series or books either. Or perhaps, especially not there. A good friend of mine has once claimed that the reason why we even cry over a animated character‘s
death was that that world had to remain untouched, had to function as a steadiness in our everychanging life. And she was right. There are people who read and watch without many emotions left right after having finished dealing with the respective medium. I might not be devastated over characters‘ demise anymore like I used to in my teenage years still even later on it was hard to even accept other major ‚dreamworld‘-novelties. When people from one of my favorite teenage series left school to go to college; I was deeply saddened once more. You can call it stupid, but dealing with a lot of changes anyway, this was a part of my life that was still about to come and I wanted to hold on to some steadiness in my fantasy world my everyday life could not provide during these months. It was like trying to Peter-Pan-like cling to childhood when I had to grow up. Had he knocked at my window back then; I would have joined / followed him without a second guess.
Part of yesterday‘s respective street name means ‚beautiful‘, but there was hardly anything like that left. I lack the ability to understand how an area that has been famous for its warm colors of yellow, sand and terracotta could now mostly be turned into grey facades. Cold bright grey and cold dark one. They tried to make it look chic, but all they did was taking away the lovely flair it once had. The warmth had gone and so had the feelings.
I had been afraid to come back to this place. When I finally did it was unplanned and even if it just was a superficial return from the outside, it was a deep one on the inside and as I went on, a huge lump inside of me disintegrated.
The new layout had changed everything. The old spirit was gone. You would not have liked it, M., not quite our style.