Lost in space

Lost in Space - Lighthouse Family

My dear,

It is always a pleasure to hear from you. I know we hadn’t talked in a long time but writing this feels almost as if we are together again, in our old haunts, with two cups of latte, a pack of cigarette, and a butt-filled ashtray on the table. I miss those days.

My trip went well, thanks for asking. I didn’t expect for the meeting to go that well, primarily because we didn’t have enough time to prepare for it, what with the holidays approaching. This is probably the first time in many years that I found myself working during the holidays. I find it a bit strange too that this particular holiday seems to have found its way into this non-Christian city. You know, more shops are now sporting Christmas decor, however kitschy most of them appear to be. If you want a mental picture, imagine the Christmas decor we used to have about 20 years ago–when it was okay to use cotton as ’snow’. This year, I even heard Christmas songs playing on local radio stations. Imagine that!

In any case, I am still glad to be working, holidays or not. God knows how the development sector will be affected by this global financial crisis. 

The city was as great as I remembered it to be, back when we the two of us worked it as if we owned it. Haha. The hotel I was billeted in was within walking distance to a variety of restaurants and shops, the cathedral, and the opera house. Remember the opera house? We had such fun moments there.

I arrived on Sunday afternoon, met with my client on Monday morning to make final arrangements for the meeting on Tuesday morning, then flew back home that same afternoon. Looking back now I wish I stayed longer. I do realize that without you, the city seemed less interesting. I mean, having Monday afternoon free, I thought I’d spend it walking around: window shopping, enjoying the parks, and so on but I ended up procrastinating what to do inside my hotel room. When I got out finally, it was dusk and I had less than two hours to stroll. I did have a marvelous dinner at this French bistro that faced the park.

Like I said, I was very pleased with the outcome of the meeting. My client and I shared a wonderful lunch of excellent sushi, marvelling at the seeming ease of the proceedings. We totally expected something else. After that I happily went back to the hotel to check out. The driver of the taxi was sufficiently pleasant and chatty, and the traffic was very unobtrusive. I got to the airport with a lot of time to spare.

The airport has tremendously improved, let me tell you. I was happy to see my favorite bookshop in it and I considered myself lucky for finding this biography that I had been looking for since last year. And it was their last copy. When I got tired from walking around, I had a foot massage in one of the spas and felt more relaxed.

Thirty minutes before boarding, as I was having tea, a young man asked if he can sit beside me, as the shop was filled with customers. He looked as if he were a grad student, at least; he had the earnest face of a diligent student. I left him to head for my gate. A few minutes after I had settled in my seat by the boarding gate, the same young man came. He gave me an almost too-polite nod as he sat a few chairs away from me, talking to someone in his mobile phone.

I lost track of him when more people started coming in and I started reading my newly bought book. As I was walking into the tube, I looked at my boarding pass and realized that I was given a window seat, in spite of my clear request to give me an aisle seat. As I went to my seat, I hoped that the flight wouldn’t be full so I could transfer. This was really just wishful thinking because I saw that there were many people waiting to board.

As I sat on my supposedly temporary seat, the young man came to my row and gave me a timid smile as he flashed his boarding pass. He got the aisle seat. He didn’t seem surprised at all to see me. I asked the flight attendant if it was a full flight and I was dismayed to learn that it was. The young man smiled and introduced himself and we engaged in small banter right before the plane took off.

When the plane reached its cruising altitude, I could see the sun slowly slipping into the horizon. Fat white clouds, clustered like a crate of grapes lay below the plane, as if cushioning it. They have served the drinks. The plane shifted its direction and the late afternoon sun found its way through the windows. The soft yellow light hit my hands and I thought of molten steel. My ring glinted, along with the plastic tumbler that held the apple juice. I turned to the source of this marvelous light and I saw the changing colors of dusk: yellow, orange, a touch of pink, purple…

And I remembered many past sunsets that I spent with him, driving around our small city, cruising by the riverside, across the Japanese bridge, stopping on the other bank of the river, sitting on its stone benches, eating grilled corn, feeling the cold early evening breeze, talking. And then I thought of these recent sunsets, when I had no one but my thoughts to keep me company.

My eyes watered, literally, I must say. A bit concerned, the young man thought it was because I stared into the sun too long. But I think you and I both know the real reason. Even if so much time has passed, his memory can still hurt me, in unexpected moments and ways. I felt I was thrown off the plane, thrust into the air space between the two countries, with no clear means to slow down my descent.

Was it too much for me to expect a full recovery? I hope this is not the case.