navwin » Main Forums » Passions in Prose » The Paper Bird.........(part one)
Passions in Prose
Post A Reply Post New Topic The Paper Bird.........(part one) Go to Previous / Newer Topic Back to Topic List Go to Next / Older Topic
j0n4th4n
Member
since 2003-03-11
Posts 94


0 posted 2003-10-19 07:22 PM


The Paper Bird,

a fiction.


I remember when she had made me the paper bird. It was on a cold January night; I had been about to go home when up she comes, by my side, and says,
  
'Do you know origami?'
  
I had said, 'No,' I didn't. So she then proceeded to teach me.
  
She went over to the table where the paper was, and brought it over. Two peices. She gave me one and kept one herself. Then folding and bending hers as quick as a mouse, she made a bird. I had been supposed to follow, but it was too quick. She gave it to me, I'm sure. After, I lost it. But then, at that time, I had always been looking away from her towards another. My concentration had been shot and the paper bird was lost.


We loved each other, months after; having collided magnetically in April. I always felt with her that she was my destiny, when we were together. That we had been drawn together like, well, like we belonged to each other, to each other's fates.
  
When she had to go back to that country where origami comes from, she cried before the bus, but my eyes stoically remained dry, even though I had wanted to cry. I had promised to visit her.
  
When I returned home from seeing her off, I knew that this time it would be months, not days, untill I saw her again. Most of my energy was now fixed on finding a job, any job; I needed to propel myself into her country through my own work.
  
On top of my television, made from fancier paper this time, was a second paper bird she had made, just before she'd left. I looked at it closely; this had now become my symbol of her. It was not perfectly folded; some angles where slightly forced, some folds where slightly bunched, but it was hers.
  
After many attempts I managed to land a job. All those summer-holiday hours I worked earned me enough money, just, to go.
  
Just before I went, we had a dangerous argument, and I feared I'd lose her; like a plummeting height, it sucked at me, the possibility. But I went, it was ok, I visited her.
  
After I came back, I felt I had won her back completely again. She was mine again, and now only time could be a barrier between us. I, we, had to wait once again to be together. At this time I had started to make radical plans, what would hopefully seal our being-together for good.
  
This story is about a paper bird, but there is also a ring. It seems to either reflect or even (I hope not, though) guide our fates concerning each other. But it belongs in another story, or perhaps, an essay of some sort, not here. I felt I could not avoid the mere mention of it though. You see, I lost it before I had won her back, and found it (almost miracolously) just after.
  
And I lost it again, and this time, I didn't get it back. I also lost her, then.


I didn't see her again for fifteen years. I had made it the buiseness of my life to forget her, and surely, I did forget her. I went to university. I got a job that earned me money enough to enjoy life.
  
One day then, in this new life, I found a plastic folder. You know the type, the ones that you're supposed to put paper in and not old bits of junk. Memories. Train tickets with Spring dates on them. Written notes. A restaurant bill for 'Bellitalia'. As I looked through this find, I discovered that I had kept everything that had come out from that time I had known her. I called it obsessive. I spat at my own smallness, my wierdness. I was happy, though, to see the past cristalized in these small bits of matter, here for me to touch and see. And then I noticed a thing inside the plastic wallet, that jumped out at me more than the rest had.
  
It was the paper bird.
  

I'll never forget the way my heart swelled and my eyes melted when I saw it. This precious piece, made me cry. I felt I couldn't breathe, that I was breathing in tears and crying pure water. I thought about the past, 'It goes and it never comes back, not in the same way, but you get glimpses of it.'  Through the bird I had got a true touch of a past that I hadn't even realised was gone. I think this was mainly what made me cry. See, I had thought that it all being in my memory was somehow 'enough'. The discovery that it wasn't was due to the fact that because of the bird, I was able to, for a moment, really touch the past, get down to its raw surface, beyond all the layers of mere memory. And compared to this, the memory seemed a parody of the past. Poor, a sketch.

So now that I had money, I decided to visit her again; not as a boy this time, but as a man. I took the paper bird with me.

I am now in a hotel; I will tell you what happened to me today.


...........to continue (or end of part one)
  

  


  

[This message has been edited by j0n4th4n (10-19-2003 08:13 PM).]

© Copyright 2003 j0n4th4n - All Rights Reserved
merlynh
Member
since 1999-09-26
Posts 411
deer park, wa
1 posted 2003-10-28 02:36 PM


I wish it were not so that I should look back and have regert, but with hope I look toward the future which is uncertain.
Post A Reply Post New Topic ⇧ top of page ⇧ Go to Previous / Newer Topic Back to Topic List Go to Next / Older Topic
All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format.
navwin » Main Forums » Passions in Prose » The Paper Bird.........(part one)

Passions in Poetry | pipTalk Home Page | Main Poetry Forums | 100 Best Poems

How to Join | Member's Area / Help | Private Library | Search | Contact Us | Login
Discussion | Tech Talk | Archives | Sanctuary