We Were

Two hours later, the space between the frantic crying of my human and the ringing of silence collide to taunt me. As I lie motionless in this crevice I barely even know myself anymore. One thing I am certain of is my memory is much more acute than that of my human, for I recall in vivid detail how I ended up here, while she on the other hand, has not one inclination of where I can be found. The wonder if ever to be found, has come up several times, but I have always been more of an optimist so I do not dwell long on this thought.

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Prior to being flung here, I used to believe we were inseparable. My earliest memory was her face, beaming with pure joy and a tad bit of timidness. The energy that radiated from her and through her hands was enough to jolt me to life. In addition to her appearance and energy, she had a voice that ran through me and made me feel lucky to be hers. As she pulled me from my package and tied me around her head, she spoke the most genuine, “I love it,” to the giver of the gift. Positioned high on her forehead, I was given a gift too, that day. Suddenly, as she stood, the entire world opened up and I was invited from that moment forward into a very intimate space of a real-life human. Because of this gift, I did my absolute best to comfort, protect, and accompany her when she needed me.

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Now I watch, through a sliver that gives sight of the sky, through the bedroom window, counting the hours til we are reunited. I still believe we are meant for each other, though I must be honest, that is slowly diminishing. Something else is diminishing too, I can feel it, but I do not wish to speak that into existence.

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I caught on right away that my human was a special one who preferred being in the background rather than front and center, as was the case that day we met. Since then, I was rarely ever apart from her aside from my occasional laundry bath. Every morning she would wake and reach over for her hair tie. The moment her hair was out of her face she would then lean over to where I was hanging and tie me on. It was special being the first piece in her day. I lost count of how many times I heard acquaintances of hers laugh and say, “You must really love that bandanna,” or, “Will you ever get tired of wearing the same thing?” I must admit these types of comments boosted my ego, as the more I heard them the more I realized how special our bond was - is. What I loved the most was hearing her one famous reply, “Honestly, bury me in this.”

-

The sun is down, and so are my feelings. As if being alone and apart from her is not already difficult, when the sun sets I am left in utter darkness. This void is familiar yet foreign. It slightly reminds me of my days before being her gift, though any recollection of life before her is so blurry. In a few hours, she will be home and I cling to the feeling of knowing she’s safe and at least near. Until then I shall do what I do best: reminisce.

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Life with her has been grand. I do not have a single complaint to revisit because our connection was so instant and effortless. I simply remained available and ready for whatever the day held while she navigated all the in-between. She trusted me, not only for being reliable but for also being pliable. There was one time I recall being on a hike together. As the incline became more steep the air got colder. I like to think she understood me and the way I suddenly became untied for her. Instead of picking me up and retying me upon her head, she gave a good look at me and saw me for more than what I seemed. Tied around her neck and face, I felt trustworthy and valuable. I also gained a new point of view from that level and learned to feel her by breathing rather than thinking.

-

She’s home now and by the way she is breathing out little sighs every few minutes, I know she must be missing me as much as I do her. Up until being separated, I loved and adored our wordless form of communication, but now all I dearly wish for is the ability to call out to her.

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Many people know her but I do not think as well as I do. Humans tend to be quite dense. With her as an exception, I have observed this in many. They move through their day very robotic-like and are not in tune with their bodies or how amazing they are as creatures. My human is different though and I have had the greatest liberty in being the first to know and feel this. Her mind is continuously moving from thought to thought, I could feel it in the way her veins would expand and contract. The beautiful thing is that despite her rapid mind, she was always composed and collected. Always available to assist others, be present with them, and problem-solve when need be. She claimed to be anxious and anti-social, but I never saw this side of her. That is partly because I was a comforting piece of clothing for her. This is not to sound prideful, it is true. I know this because she also said this many times. I once heard her tell her close friend, “I know it's funny to wear the same thing every day but it helps me feel calm.”

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I wonder if she is alright. It's difficult to tell what her days are like from this lonely crevice. If it’s true that I help calm her, then I worry for her. The last couple of nights her energy does feel different as she gets into bed, but then again, I also feel different so it could be skewed. That and the dust here is slowly adding weight to me; slowly pushing me further down.

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Once I could barely hang on to the closet door knob due to being so heavy. There was a time when my human was quite stressed and borderline depressed. She wore me every day for about two weeks straight without a care of anyone commenting on how strong I smelt. Luckily for her, she was still taking showers at least. I do not judge her for this funky time, for I know if she had the energy at that moment she would have tended to the laundry and cleaned up the room. Though I love being what I am, this time and others, made me wish I could move about and help with more than just comfort.

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I hear her pen scratching the paper and assume she is sitting at her table, journaling. If I could move then I would not be lying here, stuck between a cold wall and a springy mattress. In fact, I would be with her, high on her head peeking at her wild thoughts as they reach the paper. It was one of my favorites, second to hiking and being in the sunshine.

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Oh, how she has her wild theories. One night she sat at her table and pulled out her journal. I was particularly interested to see what words would come out as that day I had felt her brain pulsating and knew she would have to unload the energy somehow. Often I am convinced she is a reincarnated scholar, and other times I laugh at how simple she can be. This particular night that comes to mind was one worth scholarly mention, or at least investigation. She penned so quickly that I could barely read her words. I was very impressed to see a connection she made between a conversation with a friend and the bit of astronomy she knew. The only legible writing I read was the question, “What effects will we feel when the Sun enters a new stage of life?” I don’t know anything about the sun, but I sure do know this is a good question. That or I am simple-minded and view her too much as a special human.

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Tonight’s journal session was short and seemingly frustrating for her as she slammed the book shut. She’ll be coming to bed soon, I know this because she is doing her nightly routine. Running the water to wash her face before brushing her teeth and then taking one more sip of water. This means another night begins, wondering if she’ll ever find me. Tonight marks twelve full days apart.

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The sun rose over an hour ago. The room is silent. Even more silent than yesterday. If I had a heart, it would be what they call broken. Today, I am happy for her as she did not leave frantic or panicking. Today, I am saddened because she left content without even searching for me…