I once painted us…sitting on a bench with trees behind us. Although the embrace was very tender, the trees in the background were telling a different story. The one on his side was in full green, while the tree behind me was all faded yellow. It was autumn in my heart, still warm but with a breath of the inevitable winter. And there was that evergreen tenderness in his eyes…
The painting was long hanging in my room until I got married and moved out. My mom took it off the wall and wasn’t sure what to do with it, so I decided to give it to him. He took it eagerly but I never knew what eventually the fate of the painting was.
I still don’t.
After he was gone I was trying to find it, but it wasn’t at his place, his mom had never seen it and after searching in all possible places it was nowhere to be found.
And then I thought that it might be a good idea to ask him to lead me to the painting in my dreams. Not long after he came into my dream and was in a bathroom, leaning over the tub. I told him I could remember perfectly the phone number of his grandparents’ place where he used to stay quite often and where he would call me from during the long overnight talks. I said the number in the dream and made a mistake in the first two numbers, which he laughed at, but then I corrected myself.
I woke up and immediately let his mom know about the dream, asking her to check out the grandparents’ bathroom. She checked everything, including climbing the ceilings, but it wasn’t there. That would probably be too easy and too fantastic.
But I’m not giving up. I will still be waiting for more clues until I find it. Not that my walls are empty without it, but that would be a very strong sign that you’re still there. I don’t even need the painting, as I have grown very unattached to material things. I have the painting in my heart, and my heart is an overcrowded gallery of memories of you, framed like stills from our life, each starting to play in a loop as a thought of a moment lingers in. Priceless, unforgettable moments…