( 5 YEARS AFTER )
THE LAZY WIND PUSHES against the unmown grass like a child sending a dandelion seeds on their way- one o'clock, two o'clock, three.
above the white wisps trail and the late spring sun brings a welcoming warmth that coats me as good as caramel over a harvest apple. my watch says it is near noon and i lay down here at ten, yet somehow my memory of the time is no more than ten minutes, twenty at the most. with a long exhale i can detect the tell tale signs that my brain is still waking from a nap, there are the vestiges of a dream, turning in nonsensical ways, grasping to remain.
white bells fill the meadows under a sun that beckons them to grow strong and beautiful. i can see them now, as if i were back in that time, in those early days of their debut.
then from nowhere comes the memory of where i'm supposed to be by this time and before the dream can reassert itself my feet are taking me down the knoll to the path below.
this place seems so foreign now. the narrow streets flow like rivers, winding around hills and fields rather than cutting a roman line through them. for the most part the lanes are one car wide and the corners blind, obscured behind the hawthorn hedgerow that has been growing unchecked through june and july, giddy with the sunshine and rain. I remember their songs echoing out of the stadium while practice. i can clearly hear yoongi singing his heart out, jin and jimin's angelic voice, hobi's heartfelt words, taehyung and jeongguk's bickering and most of all, namjoon's words.
but they've been gone too long and now this is like a half-forgotten dream. the good parts aren't as good as the memory and the bad parts are more frustrating. i'm just not used to it. not yet.
soft guitar music, the bickering of the younger ones, and the sweet smile of seokjin... happy memories have a way of saving when nothing else can.
the bangtan boys' 'we are bulletproof' was blaring out of the subwoofers onto the sidewalk, conjuring up memories of 2013's dance floors, flared pants and platform shoes.
"1 2 3 bangtan forever" echoed in my head as i felt nostalgic, the feelings of my youth rushing in again. even if i was 23 now, those boys were my youth. i grew up listening to them. now when my daughter sees my old scrap book, she asks, "mommy, who are they?" and i feel the same nostalgic feeling all over again as tears start to well up.
"once upon a time there were seven angels. they made millions of people around the world happy. but all the good things come to an end. and," i say flipping the pages of the book, seeing all the photocards i'd bought from my birthday money, "although they aren't here anymore but they are always alone in our hearts." i say smiling up to my daughter who had now taken the scrap book from my grasp, chanting the different colors of the page to herself.
"that means they're dead?" she looks up and asks.
are they dead? where are they? how are they? i don't know.
"no one ever dies sweetie. they all are alive, in our hearts." i told her, fixing her ponytail.
my (our) hearts are archives of old records that used to play their best lullabies-of spilled liquor, drunken smiles and eternal dreams.
