When you are alone after many years at an evening, you will make yourself a tea when all these wild years have remained just as a memory. In a pullover, with a full of memories and a few wrinkles in your forehead, you will be surprised how hopeful you still are although these years you have left behind. You will realise that how the time is cruel when you start to watch from the otherside of the window these streets you used to wander once upon a time. And yes, that night, you will decide to reorganise your wardrobe for the winter clothes. You will find a hidden box behind those clothes. You will sit down and put that dusty box on your laps and you will slowly open it. By scowling you will whimper “what was in it?”. Old notes, bills, a few photos, warranties and some postcards among them.
You will squint and by putting your prescription glasses, you will examine the postcard. You will gaze at the old view with a text written in a language you don’t know but probably meant to be “with love from ……”. First, a vision will appear then a voice will be heard. You will be physically sitting down but your soul will transmigrate to a different, maybe a sunnier place. Loads of memories will burst out of this small scene fitted in a rectangle. When it starts to rain outside, you will find yourself on a warm summer day. A smile will put onto your face. Because you will have hit the sack is called “past” and the memories will be scattered inside the room like dust particles. You will stare at the view.
You will see the mountains in the background that you have never noticed. Then you will recognise the symbol of that city. You will smile again. You will flip it back. You will notice the proper handwriting and you will attempt to read this familiar script that starts with “Dear. ….”. You will savour each letter. You will find such memories in those few paragraphs which can not be fit in terabytes. Your eyes will be misted over like the window next to you. Your heart will start to beat again slowly. Like the excitement on the first day when you received the postcard. But you will not be sad for anything. Your tears will slide down through your smiling lips. Wiping them away would be useless. When you come to the end slowly, you will feel that you are really “hugged” by those few words. You will be thankful to this unexpected surprise. Those few minutes will feel like a whole life. While all your memories flash before your eyes, you will inhale them slowly. And you will realise how happy you are. You will put the postcard back tenderly and you will close the box. When the last drop falls from your eyes, you will wipe away your tears and look outside. You will be grateful and thankful for having a lot of memories. It will rain cats and dogs and the raindrops will be opening other unopened boxes like your tears did. While you look at your window by smiling, a lot of poscards will be waiting to be sent.
Author: Erkin Duman
Photo by Deniz Atasoy