The one that got away and no, I don’t mean that f--king Katy Perry song. In our mind’s scrapbook collecting memories of people, places, and events, there is always that person upon whose page your mind stops. It traces the edges of your Polaroid memories, as if the light touch will recall every detail; the way the air felt, the outfit you had on, and the way they smelled.
That person. That person that always causes you to wonder, “Could it have been?” and “Were they the one?” Perhaps you didn’t go down that sometimes scary and unforeseen path of love because of age, naivety, or even the fear of losing a friendship. But we must question, why in our mind’s hundreds of pages of scrapbook memories, do you smile at the thought of him or her?
That person that was right under your nose and you let the moment(s) pass you by, without giving them a passing glance. The terribly allusive “one,” uncertain, intangible, and forever mysterious figure with which we search the world to find. It’s why we try; why we say “yes” to dinner at 7 or a Saturday coffee date at noon. I can’t help but wonder: maybe the person that we have been searching for, we have already found.
My scrapbook mind always stops to reflect on the pages titled, **Pascal. The rough around the edges, red-headed French boy with green eyes, poetic words and adventurous heart. Pascal was my good friend from college; we had a bond that was sacred. Quiet. Special. We didn’t sit next to each other in the college cafeteria or walk to class side-by-side, but he is someone my heart has deemed important; someone it carries wherever it goes.
I have always been the lover of the moon, perhaps it’s the hippie in me but I think the moon (or Luna as I like to call her) is majestic, casting its luminous shadow on the star hazed earth below. For some, I have to explain this love of the moon, but not Pascal.
The night before our final exam, he called me and exclaimed “Let’s do something!” and with a quickness I shouted, “I want to do something moon-y”. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t raise a brow, he just replied, “Ok. I’ll pick you up in 15 minutes, be ready” and off we went to see the hidden and special view overlooking all of San Francisco, a view so grand and so high, I could nearly grasp Luna with my fingertips.
I doubt that he questions our relationship as anything more than a special bond, kinship, and memory but I certainly ponder and in my deep self dialogue say, “I think you’re it.” I don’t know whether our friendship will end in the exchange of “I dos,”, “I can’ts,” or “I don’ts,” but I do know that he is forever etched into my mind’s scrapbook and ingrained in my memory.
I challenge you to reflect. Should your introspection bring you to the name or face of that special friend that took you on a moon-y adventure or your neighbor that always leant you sugar, matches, and eggs, don’t let time pass you by while you sit wondering. You just might want to say, “I love you” or even “Je t'aime.” Maybe you’ll start a new page in your life’s journey and title it “Forever.”
**Name has been changed due to fear of discovery.