What if...

It was in Cambodia – we were strangers in a foreign land. As I belatedly entered the tennis court where he taught Capoeira by night, I shyly dived to the ground where everyone else was doing their warm-ups. The class was full of foreign young men and women, made up of NGO, UN and small business workers in the country’s newly emerging markets. Then came the tap on my shoulder, to which I lifted my head up and round to find a glistening pair of cool blue eyes looking straight into my soul. My heart fluttered and a tiny shoot emerged within me. Class after class we turned up, more women than men, all in awe of this gorgeous, blue-eyed, quiet, charming American who seemed to take life in his stride and have abundant love for everyone. We all became friends joined by our common thread, hanging out, discovering the exotic land, learning the mysterious language and revelling in our sense of adventurous spirit. I fell in love with him from afar and my internal compass relentlessly pursued him on the plain of consciousnesses. But, he was to leave soon. Excruciating week after month went by, and all I could hope for was a hello, a goodbye and maybe a platonic kiss whilst trying to keep my stomach from my chest. And then that awful dreaded moment arrived. Goodbye Forever. There were parties, beaches, dancing and sad celebration. And finally that last encounter where my tongue froze my words and the tears choked me until I ran home and sobbed out my heart. It was tragically over before it had even begun. A force unleashed, this abyss of love could not be contained and it violently sought its expression from me. I violently scratched out a letter, rivulets streaming over the hot paper, spoiling the ink but conveying more than all the words possibly could. I gave him the letter while he slipped one to me in return. Without looking at the letters, we kissed each other sweet Farewell Forever and parted ways. Utter relief, for my heart had been expressed. I opened his letter – it was a poem. He would miss me. Light-hearted I returned home to ponder the quixotic “what if”. Just then, there was a knock at the door. It was he and his eyes said it all. “I feel the same way about you”.