The Time I Let Love Slip Away

 Observing people. It had been a hobby of mine since the dawn of memory.

Everywhere I went, even when I tried to stop it, I would sit down on one corner and stare at everything and nothing. It wasn’t boring. More so, it was exciting; seeing men and women interact with each other during that particular time, spotting an old man with heavy grocery bags then a young lady, an age much close to mine, came up to help the grandpa.

It really was entertaining and educational, but most people never view it that way. It may be the reason I was alone all the time.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not the unsociable type. It was just… if people can not understand, or at least try to understand, then there would be no meaning to our friendship. This belief of mine led me to lonely isolation.

Before long, I realized I no longer had friends to run too. It was hard but I got through that – somehow.

One cold afternoon, April 24, 2002, I was at my usual spot in the park. Like the joggers passing by everyday; me sitting down on a bench for no reason had become my daily regime. I can’t go a day without spending at least an hour in the park.

I had work, of course but it did not have much meaning or price to me compared to my time alone. I didn’t skip work, I had free time today.

 I sipped from a coffee cup, the one I recently bought, and watched as people come and go.

Over by the lake to my left, a group of people, probably couples were having a program about young couples. Over by the huge playground to my right were a number of little trolls and tripettes playing together. An old lady, I had seen her almost everyday, was always seated on the bench in front of me and fed the rodents – I mean, squirrels.

The old lady and I had gotten to know each other by then. Who wouldn’t after how many days, weeks and we still see each other’s faces every other day without fail.

While she fed the chirpy squirrels and some birds, she beckoned me to come over to her side. She never does that but I complied, leaving my bag and cup of coffee on my side of the bench.

She pointed to on another bench quite near from ours. I hadn’t noticed it before because it was covered by bushes and trees. Then I realized how much of a difference I could see from the old woman’s bench. She could see almost everything.

I peered to where she pointed; I had poor eye sight, mind you, and saw a lovely woman, probably in her mid-20s, a little younger from my own. She had beautiful ebony locks and pinkish skin. If I had gone closer, I could have sworn that her lips were red like cherry and her eyes were sparkling like emeralds.

In short, she was gorgeous. I did not know why the old lady wanted me to see her, sure she was pretty but men like me had no chance with women like her, was what I thought.

Then I noticed she was doing the same thing I was: Observing people, sipping a cup of coffee.

After that day, I had changed my bench, said a silent good bye to the old lady and sat nearer to where I spot the woman. I knew that the chances of me seeing her again were slim like paper but I had faith she would return the next day.

 Thank you faith! She came back.

Now, much closer as I was, I saw her hair was tied back to a clean pony tail as if it revealed the previous beauty I didn’t see before. She had this frown on her face. I wanted to come to her and tear that frown away but I was not in position to do so.

When she saw me, I swear I blushed. I felt my face heat up and she giggled cutely. At that last minute, she decided to sit next to me.

If it were not for all the hours I practiced talking in the mirror, I would have looked like a babbling idiot right then. Surprisingly, she told me she had a good talk and made me promise, in which I was very willing to do, to see me again tomorrow.