With the night, the fog outside my window seems to have found a place to stay. The balcony is engulfed by the fluffy translucence, just as I am enveloped by abundant joy. I wear it like layers on a usual winter day. I wrap it in a snugly tied muffler. There is so much good here, in this life, in all places I leave bits of my heart, like crumbs from a crispy toast. I don’t know how else to acknowledge this, and all my attempts feel like they are a bit short. I feel I could never do this moment the justice it deserves. This slice of my life oozes with jubilation—some of it falls on the plate like a dollop of thick tomato sauce. Without a second thought, I wipe it with the slice and have it still. Not a drop of it shall be wasted; it has taken its due time. But in my heart, I know I will miss this one day. I know I will have no way to come back to it.
Words will be just that—words. They will feel empty and flavourless. No matter how vivid a picture looks, it tastes like cardboard. Nothing surpasses lived experience; nothing replaces a moment. I must live all my days with an ever-unfulfilled appetite for warmth to ensure I do not miss the moments that matter the most, for everything matters! If I remember a moment from a few years ago, it means it mattered enough to urge recalling. And since I am full of memories, I can only be sure that all of it mattered enough. I sit and miss all the days I shrugged off as regular, as banal and lifeless. I know now that life happened in them, that I crave time to rewind, that all this has only been an exercise in reminiscing. It only makes me crave every moment, every experience, voraciously. I live and drink all moments like a parched man who stumbles upon an oasis after walking for days in the sand.
The fog has put across a veil over this day, but I remember it clearly. I remember laughing. I hope in earnest, I hope with all my heart that I remember it, that I can taste these days like I do them today years from now. If nothing, I hope the aftertaste lasts long enough for me to be overwhelmed by the flavour.
I do not know much, but this I know. I know I will miss it one day. I know I will have no way to return to any of it.