Little Reminders

People can only see so much of each other.

And when you exceed that amount, you turn into the way we had become. 

I don't mean that we hated each other. But we had just stopped feeling, or remembering, rather. 
We could recall what it was like before. But we couldn't recall how it felt. 
And if we could, maybe we would've pretended like things are as they used to be. But we couldn't. Because we couldn't recall, how it felt, I mean. 

People can only see so much of each other. And then, they begin to grow sick. 
Before we exceeded that time, we couldn't stand being away from each other. 
And if you're in such a place and you have to stay away, you devise methods of reminding the other person that you love them. 

But we wouldn't write on post-its or send text messages. 
It was the way we'd leave things for each other, around the house. 
Some were out of habit. Some, on purpose but it didn't matter. 
Because everything was a reminder and everything was a memory. 
The toast always had a "heart" made out of jam. The newspaper crossword page was always opened. The favorite pair of shoes was always placed up front. The car seat was always adjusted for the other one. The new bottle caps were always loosened. The toothbrushes would always kiss.

This was our way. This is how we reminded each other. 

Some were out of habit. But, as I said, it didn't matter. 
Because everything was a reminder and everything was a memory. 

Before we exceeded our time, we had grown used to each other’s needs.

I always knew how he liked things. Everything. In detail. And vice versa.

He liked the blue pillow and I liked the red one. The fans shouldn't be left running; the switch should be off. He liked the futon, and I liked the green sofa chair. The shirts should be ironed and crisp. The cupboard shouldn’t be a mess. 
The blue coffee mug is off-bounds. The toothbrushes shouldn't kiss. 

We had learnt this about each other. And so the reminders reminded us simply of the other person. That they're there. Around. 
And things changed meaning.

People can only see so much of each other. Before they grow used to each other. 

Slowly, the new reminders were the only ones left. The toast didn't have a jam heart on it anymore. The car seat was left unadjusted. We tried to remember how things were before things got that way. But we couldn't. 
There was nothing left to remind us. 

Then, there came a time when we'd hardly speak. But we had to.

We had grown dependent. Work was divided. 
So we devised methods of reminding each other without saying things.

The reminders, this time, was for the work. Pending. Unfinished.

Like so many other things. 

The bank’s pass book would be kept on the table. A packed toaster to remind pending repair work. An unpaid bill on the refrigerator. 
And the reminders changed again. 

The last thing that I remember we spoke about was a truly insignificant and mundane issue. 
But it seemed like such a task. 
Not the issue- the talking after that. Things became silent.

We spoke, but we didn't. 

Because everything around us reminded us of a fight, of problems. 
The towel, the fans, the paint on the walls and the TV. 
Everything was a reminder of how badly we failed to resolve our issues. 
Everything described a fight. Everything told the truth. 

The quieter we got, the louder things got around us. After a while, it became deafening. 

We decided that we couldn't stay in such a loud environment.

We decided to leave. Each other. 

When people grow sick and leave, everything goes back to the way things were. After a while. 
After a while, a toothbrush is just a toothbrush. And a towel, just that. 
Now, it doesn't remind me of him. 

Soon, they will get new meanings. For me and for him. 

I still have reminders. Photographs, cards, the blue mug. 
The memories fade away but they don't leave you. 
You can still remember just as clearly as you could.

But you just can't remember how it felt. 

Whenever I am reminded of him, I think about how we met.

It took us quite a while to come close. 
But after being around each other for long, we did.

It was difficult for me to understand. 

And I think the way he put it is the way I’d like to describe it: 
I think, he said, we just stuck around for long enough.