Some will miss noticing it altogether, and of those who don’t, some will forget, some will take it for granted, and some will not. I belong to the latter: a blessing rarely escapes my eye. It penetrates my mind, travels around my being, touches my soul and finally reaches my heart, where it lodges itself so deeply that the feeling of having been blessed never truly leaves. So, never have I forgotten, nor taken for granted, the blessing that was and still is you. Ten years may have passed since the days I was a quiet girl listening attentively to you in class, but do not doubt how frequently still I consider myself lucky to have had you come into my life – indeed, it is a thought I think every day. My life would have turned out quite differently had your presence not been a part of it, for who am I now but the person you made me feel capable of being? I am who I am because of you, and I hope you can look at me and be proud – not of me, but of yourself, for having guided me to my future, and now present self. And I hope that if students can be blessed with wonderful teachers, that teachers too can be blessed with the love of the students whose lives they have shaped.
{poem}
I will be as kind to you
As you have been to me
And return to you the love
Which you bestowed on me.
a prayer.
The sight of him takes her by genuine surprise, for she had not expected to see him. She watches him making his way to his desk; his walk is calm and peaceful. His hair is not as well-kept as usual, suggesting he had just been outside where the wind was blowing with unusual intensity for an October morning. She is behind him and he is unaware of her presence until another speaks her name. Then he looks in her direction. Their eyes meet, their lips smile, their voices say hello and how are you going. Their conversation goes no further. She turns away, unable to remove the smile on her face. Glee – this is what she feels, despite having known this human for over a decade. The joy of still having this beloved being in her life – no, she never takes that for granted. She sits and quietly allows this delight to warm her heart, and from there, a little prayer is born: may my love always reach him when and where I cannot express it as I should wish to.
{a text message}
He was thinking of me just then, she realised as she read and re-read his text message. It was a plain text, devoid of any romantic or loving undertones. It stated, in a very direct manner, a fact; and posed, in a clear way, a question. Yet, she sensed that the sender’s intention to contact her was far less plain than the content of the message. After all, why would he take the trouble to communicate with her, if he did not care for her? It was a foreign idea to her – that she might have been the object of someone else’s thoughts, that her feelings were being considered, and that some action had been taken not to injure them – that she found it hard to believe it might be true. But what could be better evidence than this short message, sent at seven thirty in the morning?
gifts.
He had never given her anything, really: she had never received a letter, nor even a birthday card; she had never been given flowers, nor even a small piece of jewellery. He had, however, given her his time, many words of kindness, comfort and encouragement – even praise – a safe heart in which to confide, trusting and knowing glances and frequent friendly smiles. And perhaps in a way, these gifts were better: in order to be appreciated completely, they required her to be fully present in the moment of receiving them, such that her heart may be affected by them to such an extent that, once the moment over, the marks left on her heart are the only evidence of having been cared for and loved by another. It was their very nature – intangible and invisible – that rendered these gifts so valuable, more so than any physical gift he may have ever presented her.
{oh, the sadness}
She had arrived, full of expectation and anticipation. She had been waiting for this day with impatience ever since she had last seen him – now over a week ago, but not quite two. But oh, how it felt like such a long time! Sitting down on a chair in the staffroom and taking out her book, she pretended to read while secretly listening attentively to every voice in the hallway. To her dismay, the voice she had so hoped to hear failed to be heard: he was not here today. Oh, the sadness! How, in the space of that realisation, did it kill all her eagerness! She had longed to see him and to speak to him, to tell him about some adventure she had had just the other day (she knew he would have chuckled); she felt her excitement today would have crushed her usual shyness and awkwardness around him, that she would have been chirpy, free and happy. The joy of him that could have been! Instead, the disappointment of a longing so easily, so innocently crushed! The sadness of enduring the absence of one so beloved!!
(im)patience.
in my patience you will find impatience. (because i am waiting - although i cannot wait - to see you again).
meeting a kindred spirit.
Who can explain why we are attracted to one person more than another? Why it sometimes happens that in a few instants, in one brief conversation, there feels to be already a friendship established, though few words have been spoken, and so few memories shared? How can it be that we can take an immediate liking to someone, and open ourselves up to them willingly and easily, when it is generally such a chore with others? When one is always on guard and hiding their true self behind politeness and expected small talk, how can comfort and fearlessness be explained in a new connection? Who can explain this strange attraction that manifests itself as an itch to reach out, to speak to, to see, to get to know this other being, because the potential of an honest friendship seems not only obvious, but realisable too? Who can explain the mysterious forces which govern the relationships we seek, find and love in the course of a lifetime?
Guardian angel (haiku).
From a love cloud he
Watches over me like a
Guardian angel.
the contrary of jealousy.
She was never really jealous. On the contrary, she liked that others spoke to him, that they seemed to like him. She liked the idea of his light and his kindness reaching many: why be so possessive of these treasures, when the whole world could benefit from them?
Words & Feelings 