Dream

I have no good blog for this. But this is the best choice as I believe the Isabel Dalhousie books lead to this entry.

When I was a senior in high school, there was a boy. A boy that loved me. He was not someone I would have chosen (nor did I choose him). After high school, he joined the Marines. While he was at boot camp, he wrote me and I wrote back (more out of a sense of courtesy than any great fondness). By the time he came out and before he was preparing to go far off to the Arab world, I had met Mark and obviously wanted to be with him.

The boy came to visit it me during his brief leave at that grocery store where I for so long toiled. This is what I regret. I let him down on the bread aisle. I told him the truth. But upon reflection now (as a grown-up and probably more empathic than necessary self), I see how cruel I was. Why didn't I say, I can meet you at such and such time? And why didn't I give him the courtesy of a proper conversation? I knew how he felt about me, it was certainly no secret to me. And although I did not return his affection, I wish I'd been kinder to him.

The last I had heard from him was a letter from that Arab country where he was stationed. And in that letter, I learned what debauchery he claimed to be up too. I felt a moment's sadness and put him entirely out of my mine. I haven't given this guy a thought for 13 years and last night I had a dream about him.

I guess I am just regretful that I caused such hurt and I hope he worked through his problems and is happy now. I'll never know what happened to him, but I wish for him the kind of joy and love that have filled my life.