And now it seemed her voice was gone. For as much as she tried n sound would come out of her. There seemed to be no will or no effort for that. The music was also gone.
Just like sometime before her eyes had stopped seeing things they would picture in beautiful images. And before that her hands would stop tracing fine lines. Even before that she had lost all the words to her poetry. It seemed that each time one of them left a bit of her magic was gone.
She looked herself in the mirror, that spark in her eyes was not there anymore. It was not the first time. It would not be the last time, she knew it. It was just one more time. No one has ever died of lack of spark, she thought to herself. Actually this need for a spark was just some nonsense invented in the 16th or 17th century by someone who was trying to convince people that emotions mattered, she believed. And they did matter, but not that much.
Now she was standing before that tall aging wall. All the times before this one she had believed that the wall had fallen broken into pieces. Now she’d realized that it had always been there, strong and still. It had cracks and stains, scratches and names and all sort of marks, but it was there still. Looking closer into it, she realized that where some names used to be (those ones she thought had caused the wall to crumble) there were just missing paint, and she could see the grayish-white plaster from behind them. Some were bigger, some were deeper, depending on the importance she had given them. This new one was the smallest, and also the cutest, she thought.
For the first time she had decided there would be no drama, no hate or bad feelings. There was no need for it. There were tears for the first day, and then the mourning time was over and life was moving on. She caught herself thinking of all the good thinks that had happened, and she could only smile and be thankful for them. When a thought of pain for never having them again came close to her mind, she would just convince herself that it was great that they had been there, but they had to be gone for new things to come. It was always like this, one has to go for others to arrive.
Sometimes she would think on how she would miss all those talks and the way they made her smile. But then she just looked at all the other blank spaces on the wall and remembered that all of them had given her smiles, but she did not miss them after a while. After sometime they made no difference at all. She would just get used to not having it, and then it would be gone. There seemed to be nothing left to say.
She had decided not to talk about it anymore, even if she still thought of it, but when it happened she would just sweep the thought away. She knew things were just as important as she made them, and this time she was trying to give it just as much importance as she believed it could have.
Looking at the wall again she had decided it was time for a change. She had decided to repaint the missing parts, but not in the same color of the wall.She did not want to erase her past, she did not want to cover all the lessons learnt so far. She did not want to pretend that they had not been important as a part of her life so far. She cleaned the wall so that the paint would fix better, and started painting each hole in a different shade. By the end of the day the old wall looked like a garden, like a beautiful painting in an art gallery. She was pleased and decided it should always be like this, for every new missing piece there would always be a new color to remind her that every good thing that ends leaves some beauty behind.
