for geli

What happened that morning

 All we know is that it was her friend's turn to drive. There could have been
a cold breeze; it was a little
past 6 after all. Probably, not one
of them was thinking about how good it was
to be young and alive. Easter Sunday, but that was it; nothing
special in it – no
surprise gifts, no parties. But the night before!
My god, it was so ordinary. Define BORING they
may have said, rolling their eyes. Of course, they
talked about that night. She probably laughed at the way her
friend, while drinking from her 4th bottle at half-past
forgetfulness, almost fell down her seat looking at some
stranger across the room. Accidents are funny, they think.
Then she suddenly remembers a red cup she has left in
the office; tells her friend about it. She decides that she will
get it on Tuesday instead and will wash it at home. Or maybe Wednesday.
Any day will do, what’s the hurry?
They were on their way home; that was the plan. There
is nothing special about that, too. It is hard to imagine now how
trivial her thoughts possibly were during that morning --- how she could have been
imagining that cup during that final turn -- red and permanent; something that could be postponed
over and over again. What is left to you now
is this -- some remnants of the past glued
to the question of those final seconds.
Forgive yourself for not having met up with her
the day before, exchanging greetings and
saying how much she was missed. Years after, you’ll also forgive
chance -- why it never allows us to save the ones
we love. And lastly, you have to forgive her for
having left by the way of that unseen door ; a part of you now forever
lost in that picture you took of the two of you
one night during a sleepover : identical smiles and her arm carelessly
flung around your shoulder, young and unknowing; the future, unwritten.