Writers Jam

A tiny 4x4 inch canvas rests on an even cuter tiny easel, decorating the insipid and cluttered console in my living room. I walk past it innumerable times, but every once in a while, it catches my eye, and I’m forced to shift my focus to the edges of my vision, perhaps out of unconscious nostalgia.

Overnight, she painted my favourite album cover art, unknowingly crafting her parting gift. It wasn’t meant to be, we knew we were going to part ways, the obsessive excitement was barely lingering. The reality of two different individualities was staring us in our faces.

I fell for her from the very first sensory experience—the sillage of her perfume entering the space before she did, the clopping thud of her leather boots the moment after, and finally locking eyes with her—all felt like my first glimpse of consciousness, only for me to later realize it might be a short-lived rapture, not so short, but definitely not long enough.

I am not sure what I am more appreciative of—the gesture, how it would be the perfect gift, how I alone could be its best possible recipient, the sheer consideration, or the fact that she was familiar with the lack of palpability of our relationship, and still made me the perfect 4x4 inch present.

I clean it more often than I admire it, even when it doesn’t go along with the so-called decor, maybe because I don’t want dirt on the pure memories stuffed somewhere between the tainted echoes of my life.

But, when I do stop to admire it, it’s not just the intricate details I revere, but also cherish the memories anchored to it, how the short but sweet 4 months of novelty made me feel, excited enough to pace around my 4x4 room, with the endangered butterflies in my stomach fluttering again.

And now when the memories are slowly becoming too hazy to relive, I try not to force it, try not to overthink and frown about it, instead I just appreciate the tiny 4x4 inch canvas resting on an even cuter tiny easel, decorating my otherwise insipid and cluttered life, somehow making it perfect.