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Bittersweet Meeting

by Sara Harricharan  
1/23/2008 / Short Stories

I saw him just yesterday. It was really accidental.

There were shy smiles exchanged, eyes kept to the ground and awkward laughs that couldn't fill the silence.

We chatted for a few minutes, marveling at the way our parallel lives had separated.

His life seemed to have taken off and mine was stuck somewhere between hopeless and forgotten.

I felt like the odd shoe in the wrong size as I stood, smiling politely and listening to words that didn't make sense.

We talk of things that are of mutal interest, each tip-toeing around one question.

A question we'll never ask, a face we'll never see and songs we'll never sing, because all has gone unanswered.

He talks of passion in life and work, a brilliant career ahead of him. Opportunities just waiting to knock, success mere inches away.

My jumbled study reflects my life like an ancient patchwork quilt. Scraps of fabric sifted through time, stitched together to cover my dreams.

I learn to smile without really meaning it, I learn to laugh so it sounds like I'm enjoying it. I'm the perfect one in my category, if only I could see myself, in that one light.

My pains are my own, just as my sorrows, my life is forlorn, but I'll revive it soon.

He smiles and waves as he continues on, I whisper goodbye as I shuffle forward.

There are bills to pay, people to please and life to live in general. Why should I be affected by a jolt from the past, one fleeting memory of life lived too fast?

The bittersweet feeling lingers a half-second longer before I dare to push it away. I have no reason to hate my life, to wish that everything were different.

I've done my best and my worst at times inscribed through history. I've struggled to make my voice heard, my song replayed, my soul bared.

What I have given will always come back, bringing blessings as fuzzy hats.

Fuzzy hat feelings of hope and peace, little furry earmuffs of acceptance and joy. I'll learn to wear them, whenever I go out. I'll tuck them under one arm, when I'm wandering about.

Thank you, my dearest heavenly Father, thank you for this course you've plotted. While I may resist in times afoot, please keep nudging me over the cliff. You know that I like the wind in my hair, the feeling of you running through my veins.

You have prepared me to be the glow that invites others to be in your know. You've bandaged my hurts and soothed my soul, I am yours, forever and now.

The next time I meet, this friend, bittersweet. Be with me then, hold me steady. Make my smile, genuine. Make my laugh, like summer's song. Let my ears, hear the truth and help my heart to grow very deep roots.

Sara Harricharan is a young Christian woman with a passion for writing for the Lord through faith-filled Science Fiction/Fantasy stories and pure words.

Article Source: WRITERS

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