Bitter Sweet

This is an old post in my previous blog, written back in May, 2006

There she stood, beautiful as always. Innocent to the beholder, pretty as a picture. A picture that can tell a thousand words and hurt a thousand different ways. I was not expecting to see her today but fate can play you like a violin. Fate, that worst four letter word, can do tricks on you that would shame the most versatile magician. It conjures up images of what once was, what it should have been and what will never be. I almost stopped in my tracks – almost. But it was plain to see that I was caught off guard, it did not help that she looked so pretty as usual. That lost face, those beautiful eyes, that half-smile that rarely appears but will entice you and make you long for more. That smile!

A glass door stood like a barrier between us when my eyes fell on her. Yet it might as well have been made of lead and a few hundred miles thick. I recovered quickly to smile at her and give a wave of sorts. I finished talking to the person on this side of the door and opened the glass door towards her. “Hi!” we both said at almost the same time. “What are you doing here”? she said although she had no reason to say anything more. Was I even sure that is exactly what she said? I mumbled about the reason why I had come and said that I had to be going and would see her around. “Bye” was my last words to her and it could be the very last that I say face to face to her as she will be going away from here soon.

Am I upset about the chance meeting? Did it bring back my memories of hours spent talking to her? Yes to both but lesser to the former. It is like she is two different people to me : one her true self and what I have now known her to be, the other is the image in my mind of what I thought she was. I have a nickname for her from he first few weeks of me meeting her; Doll. Cause she remind me and many people of a doll, a very pretty doll. She has that kind of quality. So she is her and she is Doll. My Doll, the memory of what I thought she was will always be with me and be my hairshirt for as long as I have the memory to remember.

3 thoughts on “Bitter Sweet

  1. Thanks Selma. It’s not a personal experience but more of a reaction to a story I was reading. It just came out of me and I started writing it up.

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