Thursday, May 19, 2011

porridge

I imagined myself talking to him like this, when we just had pockets, pockets of time to share about the little things we observe and the funny things we encountered. I find myself stuffing those little things into the furthermost corner of my mind, because talking like that, so freely, so happily, I imagined, that it was somehow wrong. I was so disappointed when I could not meet him due to my bout with tonsillitis and my inability to speak, or eat. (Porridge diet makes me super grumpy.) It has been almost a month since we last met.

Today, wobbly and woozy from the antibiotic dosage - my body must be really overreacting because I haven't taken antibiotics in years - I crawled to work, and we had a conversation that lasted the whole day. In between meetings and phone calls, we exchanged emails. Mostly about food, because I was perpetually hungry from the meagre porridge and cereal sustenance - I told him about my cravings for lamingtons and crumpets, and he asked if I liked flapjacks and oatmeal. Yes to flapjacks and no to oatmeal, said I - oatmeal, he insisted, was called porridge and the original term for porridge instead of the watery rice gruel we have here for meals. He said he loved oatmeal. I found it yucky, perhaps eating too much of it when I was really young.

Although it was only for a meal and practically for work purposes, nothing more, I remember the nuances of our first meeting like it was crystal clear. The funny parts, the rakish way he slung his jacket over his shoulders, a little bit of mushroom soup that lingered on his chin... how strange, I thought to myself, that despite our strange accents, I understood him perfectly, and how strange, and how perfect that little moment was. I've met so many, too many people in these last 6 weeks. And yet, he sticks out, cutting a clear silhouette, a vivid memory. Do we choose who we want to remember, who we want to meet again, unforgettable after a month, and then, what do we do with all these thoughts? It was more than what I'd expected for a simple lunch meeting, it was lovely, nice, and if I could, I would spend more time talking to him- it feels like there is someone in this world who thought the same way as me, traveled the same path and wound up bumping into each other.