In between sobs, he mustered the faintest voice he can gather and thanked me for making him happy since we got together several months back. I was overwhelmed the words pierced deeply. I can only heave a deep sigh and, in muffled voice, exclaimed "Oh God!" as I asked myself to be excused. I put the phone down and rushed to somewhere private where no one can see me drift to crying land.
And there, for a few minutes, I was lost in tears and running nose. I can only look out the window and amuse myself with the unexciting scenery of tall glass buildings mixed the shorter ones in painted concrete. It was good I was at work that time so at least I was forced to be composed and calm. Otherwise, I would have sobbed so heavily the whole building where I live would be jolted and shaken thinking some newly-married wife was suddenly left widowed. To some extent, this was the case for us.
How we met is a magical story of joy and thankfulness better relived in memories where it rightfully receives justice. It is one story that has never failed to tickle even our most boorish friends. It is one story, they say, that should be repeated over and over to keep love alive. Love truly comes in the most unexpected places and times. We were at the same place at the same time but we did different things. He danced, I played. He was in tap dancing shoes, I was swinging my racket. We were having fun doing our separate activities but, somewhere along the way, love came and showed itself to us.
And that's how life became more inspiring, living more meaningful, loving more enduring, and lusting more profound for us --- even if it passed so quickly. Truly, the sense of love lies not in how long it stayed, but on how deep we felt its magic, meaning and madness.
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