By: Krishna Advani (@mskrishnaadvani)
I brought you back to life only for you to live in a cul-de-sac home on Memory Lane.
You were resuscitated with yearning — each paddle charged with distance, a moment of need, and before I could help it, you were sitting on a porch with a version of me the mirror doesn’t know anymore.
Through sepia tones and happier skies, I realize the objects in my rear-view mirror are brighter than they appear.
The smiles are wider, our laughs are louder, and the blind-spot covers every time I’ve cried.
And suddenly, all I could do was stare at the sky in the rearview mirror because I have this tendency to never catch the present in time.
I drive down the same block, over and over, but this time I don’t expect to show up at a different address. This time, I rebuild the house right where it was — exactly the way it wasn’t.
I revive you. And in the most puzzling but inevitable ways, the revival is an attempt to catch an essence long gone.
‘Revival‘ (n.): Restoration to life
‘Revival‘ (state): Remembering what’s gone, and convincing yourself it’s tangible.
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