Cauterizing the Wound

The sky was orange from the far-off city lights. I think that's what I'm going to remember the most. Clouds covered the sky as though they were large splatters of paint on a dark canvas. The two of us stood at the field on the top of the hill, letting the flames at our feet dwindle in the wind.

I suppose it goes without saying that we were both there for different reasons. He stood in silence watching the pages burn one after another, and as each one withered into ash and ember, I think it soothed his pain. But the hurt would stay hidden for the time-being. He was too stoic for that. He stared at the ground, watching the book slowly get eaten away. Instead, I focused on the sky. The clouds, the stars, the breeze, the temperature... It was all so very familiar and it brought me back to summers lost. One in particular.

But I didn't come there for closure or nostalgia. In fact, I didn't come there for me at all. But I realized that 12 AM looked exactly like 11:59 did the minute before. Different days, same moment. As such, the end of summer now looked exactly like the one I remember from years ago. The year may be different, but I was still locked in the same moment. People change. Times change. Friendships come and go. The power of human recognition never fails to amaze me. But standing in that moment again felt like being back in time, watching the future that I've lived in the meantime stretching out before me; except this time if felt like some distant future instead of a memory. It felt like everything between then and now peeled away, and for just a moment, I held a small piece of innocence again. I had been offered a glimpse back to those times when I was filled with youthful exuberance and optimism, believing that years in the future, I will have found my place and my freedom. I felt like I had a destiny, waiting for me out there somewhere.

It's a funny thing to have the weight of your memories crashing upon you all at once. It makes the rest of your life seem trite and inconsequential next to those halcyon days that you'll never truly get to live through again. If I ever had the opportunity to trade in everything I've accomplished to go back to those moments... Well, sometimes I can't promise I wouldn't do it.

He stomped out the last vestiges of the fire below, scattering a thousand tiny remnants into the wind. I took one last look at the world around me; a scene from a memory that I may not ever see again. But it was there, and I had to take stock of it. The cold night crept in again and I began to realize that it truly was turning into autumn, no matter how much I wanted to hang on. We turned and started to descend the hill, and though I came with nothing, I left behind another wasted summer.