Forever

I distractely watch the news on TV as I peel the potatoes. Tonight my grand-children are coming to visit me, and I want to make sure everything is perfect for these little monsters. Those boys, they eat like horses. I grin as I remember that one time Lucas ate so much he almost couldn't get up after dinner. Lina and me had to carry him to his bedroom.

"....former member of BTS..."

I turn around so fast I almost trip. Facing the television, I can not believe what I hear. Seeing the picture on the screen, I almost don't recognize him. How many years has it been since I last saw his face, or heard his name? Decades.

He's dead.

The other members are being interviewed. They're all crying their eyes out. They're so old now. Not much more than me, but still.

Gone.

Feeling a pain in my right hand, I realise I've been griping the peeler too hard. As I stare at my knuckles slowly turning white, a drop of water falls on my thumb.

Tears. Before I can even process what's happening, my hand drops the peeler to the floor, and I start to sob uncontrollably.

Something inside me dies. My heart breaks into little pieces. The emptiness fills my whole body.
I can't stop crying.

A sudden realisation hits me. Could it be that...? I rush to the corridor and through the stairs. It must be somewhere. My eyes scrutinize avidly the attic.

There it is. Slowly, as if I was afraid that it would disappear, I open the box.

Immediatly, the memories come back.

My 16 years old self, trying to tell their faces apart while watching my very first music video.
My 17 years old self, fangirling at 3:00 a.m.
My 18 years old self, who was proud to tell everyone about the group she adored.

And it's my entire youth that flashes in front of my eyes. I remember about the girl who thought she was too different and didn't know if she was worth taking her place in the world.
I remember about her being so insecure about herself and unsure about her future.

Boy, was I young. Those times when I voted and streamed to get them to the first place. When they won. And when they didn't. Their road of successes and failures, but mostly success. They made their dreams come true, as well as ours. A family. That's what we were. Bonded together by something stronger than blood- love. They loved us and we loved them. They inspired us, and we inspired them.

More memories crash in my mind like huge waves. Buried and hidden deep in my heart for many years, they surface stronger and brigther than ever.

The concerts. The fan meetings. The friends I made. All the things I learned from them. I hold their albums in my hands, tears silently falling on my cheeks.

That T-shirt. My old ARMY bomb.

The last concert. Tears. The last song, and more tears. Their goodbye, and always more tears. We were all crying that night. We knew a part of our youth was left behind us. We knew from now on we had to walk different ways. We knew we now had to bury them deep in our heart and carry them like a secret treasure.

I can't stop crying. I thought that maybe, maybe I would die before they do. I secretly hoped so, because I wasn't ready to hear it. That the men who inspired me, saved me, made me, weren't immortal. That they had to die. I knew, and yet I hoped it wasn't true.

It's my 17 years old self who is sobbing silently in her attic, holding an album in her hands while looking blankly at a box full of old memories, her entire youth flashing back in her head. Staring at a postcard and sobbing even more.

Sooner or later, she knows it, she will come back to this attic and cry again. Her heart will shatter into little pieces and she'll have to pick up every piece to rebuild it. 6 more times.

My 17 years old self and my 73 years old self, slowly get back up together. We look through our window. The sky is blue, the sun shines brightly on our face and a fresh breeze caresses our skin.

At this exact moment, I make a promise with myself. He's dead now. But I will carry him, for as long as I live, in my heart. He's one of my seven treasures. One of my Seven Wonders.

Carrying the box, and wiping the tears away from my cheeks, I go back to the kitchen.

_________________________

Two children run accross the kitchen, laughing. Suddenly, one of the boys stops, almost tripping on a half-opened box.
Carrying it with the help of his little brother, he walks to the living room, where are seated his mother and his grandmother.

"Granny, what is this box?"

The old woman smiles fondly.

"Would you like to hear a story about Granny, boys? It's a very special story because in this box lies my greatest treasure."

The two boys nod eagerly while carefully putting the box on the table.

"Then come here and sit next to me."

I'll never be able to resurrect them. But perhaps I can do something greater.

At this precise moment, she feels a presence by her side. Something, or is it someone? presses gently her shoulder. But there is no one next to her. The feeling vanishes as soon as it came. Suffocated by the sudden sensation, the old woman takes a deep breath.

"It all began when..."