Harking down the Memory Lane.

Found some posts that were written in the beginning of 2004.
When I used to rub my nose against hers, and feel her eye lashes brush against my face, her curls tickling my neck, it felt like bliss never felt before.

The tingling giggling that escaped her soft lips, the light fingers that ran through my hair, the beady look in her eyes, used to get me lifted to the top of the world.

The way she used to wrap her arms around me, hold me tight and snuggle into my neck, nibble my ear, and blow my hair back.

The time when I used to peck her neck, steal a kiss, and touch her hair, and whisper a 'hey' into her ears, used to get her high.

And when she broke her hand, the stunts that she used to try in kitchen, her attempt to cook, whilst me sneaking up behind her to give her a helping hand, and blow air into her ear, tickle her back, caress her elbows, and all that still brings a smile to my face.

The shine in her eyes, when I used to go to her office, the glee on her face on seeing me, was worth all the effort to walk up to her place.

The way she used to sneak up behind me when I used to be punching away at the keys, and cup my eyes, and I am sure, she always hoped, that I never guessed another name other than hers.

The time when she sat and watched me wrap up my documents on Valentine's, and how I messed up all her plans to go on a long romantic drive.

The night when we had a small misunderstanding, and I could feel the tear rolling down her eyes over the phone, and listen to her stoic voice. I hitched a ride from a stranger to go to her place, the test next day could go to hell.

The drive to Billoxi holding her hand, while she sat besides me, very coy. Her nails digging into my arm as we watched 'Red Dragon'.

The day when I never saw a tear in either eye as I boarded my flight to NY. The three trips to Boston, from New York. The last one trip, I wanted to see her so much, and she declined, and then she changed her mind, and asked me to come by at the last moment. For we knew that after that day, we would not see each other for a long time to come.

The bus ride to her city, in the rains without any rain gear, no food to eat, and no bus to board for long, the never ending wait in the pitter-patter, to get onto the bus for her. The arrival at 4 in the wee, the sleepy look in her eyes, and I hugged her real tight that night.

Watched a movie at home, that was one of the things we loved doing. The romantic mood in the air, the buzz of the television, and the two of us cuddled into each other.

The hug the next morning, the last kiss before we let go of our fingers, the sight of her walkin into her department, the final wave of goodbye, the walk to the rail-station, with the thought that she would never be mine.

* * *

I sketch, she sketches better. I paint, She paints better. I am unconventionally sensitive, she is conventionally sensitive. I am lil' emotional, she is super emotional. I am indifferent, she is quite indifferent, but chooses to believe that she is not. I am a chatter-box, she talks reasonably. We both like the same kind of scenarios for photography. She loves fast-cars, I love driving any car fast, but choose to drive safely most of the time. We both have gone to sleep at the wheel. I love to laugh, she's got the best smile. I am not coy, she is sorta-coy. I love to hold her hand, she's got the nicest hands. She likes to nudge, and I love her nudge. I don't like to see her cry, luckily she doesn't cry. I like the adventure-spirit in the girl, she is quite a sport. I am hyper-ambitious, she's got her head on her shoulders. I am fantasy-minded, she's practical. Her smile makes me feel good. She loves being with me, I trust. I simply love being with her. She is 3 months younger to me, till somedays back, she thought she was older than me. She is my best dance-partner. I have seen her going all red with blush. She doesn't get green with envy, she's gets white with envy. Hmmm. I have seen her that way. She looks cute, and lovely, anyway, just as she is. She looks beautiful, when she gets up in the morning from bed. She sounds wonderful when I wake her up in the middle of her sleep, sometimes. He he heh...No no, I don't do that on purpose. She's a nice person. She thinks too much. She thinks way too much. She worries a bit more than a normal girl. She is not the nagging types. That's kinda odd for a girl, but that is true. Never seen her nag. She does not crib, she does not gossip. She talks sense. She is good-humored. Sometimes, odd-humored, with only her laughing, which is not funny. Especially, when it is my leg that is getting pulled. She loves to get cosy. She rocks my world. She laughs with me. I love her very much, and she does not love me. End of story. Hmmm. And I still haven't written much about her. Something went wrong somewhere, and I don't really know why and how. Guess, I shoot my mind, without really thinking how the other person might hear it. Hmmm.