I gazed longingly at the effervescent girl, who looked back at me from the photograph enclosed in the safe, glittering walls of the exquisite photo frame. I knew what she was thinking while she smiled her heart out, her dainty arms perched delicately on the welcoming, supportive hands of her sweetheart.The jet black strands of hair that fluttered in the warm summer breeze heightened the twinkle that sparkled in the summit of the valley that was her eyes. I knew what her eyes chanted as she posed for the photograph, trying hard to make her naive attempt at a pout succeed, after the many rehearsals in front of the mirror during those secure, inconspicuous moments of her solitude. I knew what her heart yearned to scream out till her lungs gasped for breath. I knew, for her smile, as infectious as it was, managed to hide little. I knew, at that very moment, she was wishing upon the stars for that stage of her life – those deeply satiating, resplendent years that formed it – to last forever. She was hoping for her youth to be arrested; her evocative bond with her loved ones to be preserved in virginity. Under her breath, she was unassumingly whispering a prayer for her thoughts forever to be just as vibrant as the present. A fleeting seed of fear that hinted towards the inevitability of change failed to bother her. She lived in the moment, sans doubts or dilemma, and believed it the right way to face life.
As I sat absorbing her charm, my long lost charm, a drop of tear rolled down the shallow lines, diligently masked by the concealer, on my wry face.
Will I have that girl back in me, again, ever? Or was she already dead? But how can she be dead, when I myself am that girl? Aren’t I very much alive this moment? Indeed I am, silly. Or am I, really?
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