Little Things

I was going over the events of the past week with Nalini again this morning, discussing the films encore, and she pointed me to another exchange between Jesse and Celine from Before Sunset. It speaks directly to a fundamental problem in my own life: namely, not being able to move on or forget people. I don't know how some people create such impenetrable fortresses of silence around themselves. And neither does Celine. Clearly the screenwriters understand that people like me exist, and the pain we feel exists, too, quite plainly and deeply, as a result of how we experience the world.

Jesse: I think my book was like building something so that I wouldn't forget the details of the time we spent together. Like a reminder that once we really did meet, this was real...this happened. 

Celine: You know, I am happy you are saying that. I mean, I always feel like a freak because I'm never able to move on like this...(snaps her fingers)

People just have an affair or even a relationship, they break up and they forget, they move on like they would have changed brands of cereals. I was never able to really forget anyone I've been with, because each person has their own specific qualities, and you can never replace anyone. What is lost is lost. Each relationship, when it ends, really damages me. I never really recover. 

That is why I'm very careful with getting involved, because it hurts me too much...or even getting laid--actually, I don't do that. I will miss of the person the most mundane things. Like I am obsessed with little things. Maybe I am crazy. When I was a little girl my mom told me I was always late to school, so one day she followed me to see why I was late. I was looking at...chestnuts falling from the trees and rolling down the sidewalk or ants crossing the road, the way a leaf cast a shadow on a tree trunk--little things. It is the same with people. I see in them little details so specific to each of them that move me, that I miss them and will always miss. You can never replace anyone because everyone is made of such beautiful specific details. 

You know, like I remember the way your beard had a bit of red in it and the way the sun was making it glow in the morning right before you left. I missed that. Shit, I'm really crazy.

Jesse: Now I know for sure why I wrote that stupid book--so you might actually show up at a reading in Paris and I'd walk up to you and ask, "Where the fuck were you?" 

The great thing is that in the films, neither Jesse nor Celine is one of those who can blithely forget. Lucky them, lucky dreams, wishes fulfilled (but not without prices and regrets, to be sure).

Wondering what is happening in that silence, in that space between, is awful for those of us who care. The truth is that probably most people don't spend a moment thinking about that maw of emptiness, what's unsaid and undone, and move on. As I've mentioned before, another friend has said, it take courage to confront the uncomfortable. The majority aren't going into that basement of their feelings; they don't want to remember, to take the risk of bumping into something, anything. "Eyes firmly forward, thanks all the same," I imagine they say to themselves, when someone reaches out to them. And they do nothing. Ignoring what is difficult is the path of least resistance for them, I guess. For me, it's torture.

I've never been one to settle for the easy route.

Even when I am angry about the pain of remembering, would I give up seeing and celebrating the little things, to avoid mourning the loss of said little things? No. The richness of what I see is too fulfilling.

All my love to Nalini, to whom I also owe great thanks for helping me get through lots of basement exploration.