It’s Been a Goodyear
In the parking lot, a mild August breeze brings the tree branches to dance. The earthy rustling of the lush green leaves reaches her ears through the open car window, where she pauses thoughtfully in the middle of slinging on her comfortable black slip-ons after another long day in cramped pinching heels.
The simplicity of that very moment captures her attention, and as she hears the next track’s opening bars on her CD changer emitting softly from the speakers, she knows she will associate the song with this moment forever. All it takes is one perfect song in an effervescent moment to transform it into something infinite.
She has a job interview the next morning, her first one in almost seven years. Despite it being nothing more than a preliminary interview for a faceless company she knew nothing about, she already feels something inside her shift and break away. The chapter of her life in this place is nearing its inevitable conclusion. In life, most of the time we make our own choices, but then there are obscure moments when life makes the choice for us. This is one of those moments.
This place is a source of familiarity, and interchangeably, of comfort to her. She has occupied practically every space in the vast area at some point or another– breathed and thought as she trod on both gray concrete and emerald grassy fields she was almost certain she knew as well as the palm of her hand. Her footsteps were indelibly imprinted on the long narrow pathway leading to her building, thousands’ worth of footsteps over the years as she made the necessary pilgrimage each day; strappy sandals purposely clicking on bright sunny days; closed flats leisurely strolling on windy, overcast days; leather boots skipping over puddles during dark stormy mornings.
Sometimes she feels more connected to the surroundings than to the people, and this both amuses and disconcerts her. Maybe it’s because the landscape remains virtually unchanged, whatever mood she happens to be in during that day. It’s the one true thing she can count on to remain the same. In contrast, people have walked in and out of the place over the years in one ebbing, surging, unending wave. A wave that takes them out to the sea, the next one washing up a new group onto the shore. The never-ending stream of changes alienates her, though she has done a good job of practicing that cliché—going with the flow. The mundanity has served her well.
For a person used to solitude, she has co-existed with them harmoniously. She was privileged enough to work with certain individuals who inspired her, believed in her, made her think that stepping out of the tiny corner of her world and achieving something beyond her conventional beliefs was a possibility that existed outside of a dream. There were people whom she admired; others she shared a complex working relationship with, but ultimately taught her valuable lessons from which she will remember the good and shrug off the bad. All of them she will not forget.
When she was younger she used to identify with a lobster’s exoskeleton, oddly enough. The bones on the outside and the soft flesh safely protected inside. She appears indifferent, apathetic on the surface, but the sensitivity, the sentimentality all lies therein. She knows that one of the paradoxes about her is that she despises change, but once she adjusts to the new habitat, she becomes deeply attached. There are no moderate areas, she feels equally passionate about both emotions on the opposite ends of the sociological spectrum. She views this as a weakness, and plans to share the same when she is asked the question at the interview tomorrow.
She has had a fair share of life experiences here. She had fallen in love, had her heart broken, broken somebody’s heart. She had laughed hysterically, wept bitterly, felt anger and hatred, jealousy and depression all tangibly as an impenetrable brick wall. She had sung for God, danced in front of a crowd and ran laughing in the rain by herself. She arrived at the break of dawn with bleary eyes and left in the middle of the night, stomach clenched.
She will carry the composite of the life she lived here, of all things that led from the timid, eager person she was when she entered, to the one who will leave with tranquil eyes and a secure heart. Wherever she happens to take up roots next time, she will always remember this place the way she thinks of her childhood home. Timeless and evanescent.
