Mia and Alex were best friends beginning at the age of eight. In a small park right next to their homes, they met: Mia was swinging on the old rusty swings, and Alex was building sandcastles. Since that day, they have been inseparable.
They told secrets, cracked stupid jokes, and talked about the future together. When they were young, they became friends, but as they matured, they grew into love.
They were together for nine long years, with their ups and downs and breakups and makeups. They were arguing with each other on minor issues such as forgetting to call someone back or whose duty it was to cook dinner, but they were bound together as one.
At last, they chose to marry after going through the hardships. The wedding was planned in March, a month that they had chosen because this is the time spring flowers would be blooming, a sign of new life.
Mia was eager to begin their new life as a couple, where they would live in a house with laughter and their future children.
During one fine working day, Alex was to make a business visit to another state. He was a sales manager, and the trip was significant to his career.
Then he kissed Mia on the forehead and said, “I will visit you again in a few days.” Now we are not going to be separated by anything. Mia stood waving his car out, so excited and full of expectation of their future life.
She waited till the car turned into the corner and already had the idea of surprising him with a homemade cake on his way back.
And there was destiny to be met. In the process, Alex crashed his car into a truck.
The accident was gruesome, as metal and pieces of glass lay in the middle of the highway, all twisted and broken.
It was several hours later when the police called Mia and spoke with heavy voices. They told me that my fiancé was in the hospital. It is serious.
Time was frozen for Mia. She rushed to the hospital and was crying her eyes out, and her hands trembled as they grasped the steering wheel.
At the time of her arrival, Alex was in a coma, with machines beeping gently. Physicians claimed his brain was injured. And just like that, she was threatened with it: “He may have forgotten things by the time he wakes up.”
Mia was with him for a month. She spoke to him of their boyhood days of races upon bikes, when he had fallen into a puddle; of the first kiss under the oak tree; and of the preparations to be married.
She said every day, as she woke him up, “Please wake up, Alex.” I want you. She read his favorite books out and did her best to make her voice carry to him.
No response to Alex. Mia lost touch with the family at this time; the family was distant and in shock and grief themselves.
She was lonely, yet her love sustained her, and there was a muffled strength in a sterile hospital room.
But after all these attempts to find more support, calling doctors, going online, and even pleading with them to inform her, Mia received information in the hospital.
Six months went by monotonously, with each day spent in worry. Now it was March, the month in which they were to get married.
Outside, the flowers were blooming, and that was a bitter reminder of the lost thing. It was the morning after the phone rang. Said the nurse, “Alex is awake.” Mia jumped with joy.
Passionately going to the hospital, she thought of the happy reunion, of him smiling and calling her name.
However, as she came into the room, Alex stared at her with her blank eyes. What are you? He asked him faintly. Mia froze. This is me, Mia. Your fiancée.
We are old friends.” Alex nodded his head in protest. I cannot recall. I am sorry. It was a brain injury that explained what caused the amnesia, as explained by the doctors.
He had recalled certain things like his job and the faces of his parents, but not Mia and their love. His memory was like a jigsaw whose pieces fell out, and she was one such.
Mia broke into a million pieces in her heart. She at length subsided in a chair, sobbing. Years and years of loving and all in a minute.
But how has this come about? She said she cried, and her voice rebounded in the still room. Alex was perplexed and sorrowful, yet he was unable to console.
He did not know her anymore. The ring on her finger was heavy, the symbol of a promise that he did not comprehend now.
She recalled the midnight conversations and how he would hold her during storms, and now this was gone to him.
Weeks passed into days. Alex was recovering, trying to walk with the limp again, and was restructuring life. Mia came every day in the hope of something coming back.
She presented to him some of their old pictures of them acting as children and laughing during one of the school functions and holding hands as they went out on dates.
Then he reminds you, “Do you remember that?” In a gentle voice, she would quietly point to a shot of them on the beach. In some cases, Alex may smile wanly but shake his head. It seems like fun, but I cannot remember.
Mia had a diary of the past in which she would record all the stories, just so that he would purportedly read it and recollect it.
Friends advised her to forget. “It’s not the same, Alex,” they replied, with much concern in their voices. You should be happy.
Mia was not able to forget. He is still inside there,” said she, in a firm voice, notwithstanding the tears.
At night, she would be awake, reliving their hours, the way he had proposed under the stars, forever, the fights they had battled through, and the mornings peacefully sitting over coffee. Now, forever lost seemed a dream borne away.
One night, when Alex was in one of the therapy sessions, he was holding a picture of them in the park where they met.
In finding the answer to his question, he peered out over the surrounding crowd, his head resting on his hands, which were clasped together; and then, after some reflection, he said, “This girl… it is so…
I have seen her somewhere before…you know.” Mia sparked. That is I, Alex. The first time we met, we were eight.” And Alex put his eyes down and tried.
He wiped away a little tear on his cheek. “I think… I recall that I was swinging with somebody.” However small, it still gave Mia some hope, some hope of light at the end of the tunnel.
It began with short trips by her about the hospital garden, at which she helped him along in a wavering step.
They chatted about ordinary things, such as pizza, her favorite food, his favorite food of pasta, and the desire to travel. Gradually, Alex started talking. He could not recall their old days, but he had a relationship.
One day, he said gently to her, “You make me feel safe.” Through tears, Mia smiled and clung to the words as a lifeline.
They started to experience new experiences, such as feeding the ducks in the garden pond, creating a weak bridge between the past and the current life.
Months passed. Alex improved gradually, slowly. Some things flashed back at them: their initial breakup over a misunderstanding and the makeup with apologies and hugs and laughter when they watched movies together.
Not all, though. This new Alex, who was rediscovering life, taught her how to love him. One afternoon, she said, as she sat down beside his bed and drank a cup of tea, “Perhaps we could begin again.”
Alex nodded. I would enjoy that. His smile was sullen but sincere, as the man was when she knew him.
It was the day of their supposed wedding, and yet Mia still wore her engagement ring, a silent vow she gave to herself.
There was a spring day when the hospital garden was in full color, and Alex took her hand. He said, “About the onrush of age.” I may forget, after all, but I know I love you now.
Tears were those of happiness, and Mia forgot months of suffering. The future could not be known, doctors told them; his memory could strengthen or remain unchanged, but their love was regaining a path, step by step.
Finally, it is not only about the memories of love. It is a decision to choose each other daily. The history of Mia and Alex was painful, lost, and hopeful.
They entered the world of the unknown hand in hand and heart to heart. Mia would start organizing small trips, such as a picnic in the park. Alex began to draw sketches he half remembered, and he began to draw girls on swings, Mia or someone, a memory awakening.