I didn't really expect it to happen. I mean, I hoped it would happen. I wanted it to happen. But I didn't believe it would. It made it less painful when it didn't.
But then, out of the blue, I get a message. He would be passing through town soon and he wanted to see me.
Before he left nearly a year ago, we talked about that old expression, "I'll see you when I see you." It was all we could say to each other when the time came to say goodbye. What else was there to say? Those stupid words filled me with such sadness. It encompassed that naive hope of youth that people can stay close despite the fact they leave with the cynicism of adulthood knowing the odds are stacked against them.
He saw it differently. He saw it as almost a promise. We would see each other again, even if he didn't know how long it would take. I wanted to believe him but in my heart I knew it was a long shot.
But I looked up and suddenly there he was. And just looking at him made me feel as if nothing had changed. He had the same blond hair, the same pale blue eyes, the same broad smile. I threw my arms around him as he whispered in my ear, "I told you I'd see you again." We talked about what was going on in my life and what was going on in his. He asked me how much longer until I could get out of this place. I lamented of my extremely poor status despite working three jobs and said it's still very much in the future.
After not nearly long enough, he had to leave and I had to get back to work. I hugged him tight and he held on so fiercely. We stepped back and he smiled that same smile. "I'll see you when I see you," he said. I laughed and repeated the phrase back. It's the same seven words but this time, I'm counting on them. And I can't wait to see him again.
Love you.
Mean it.
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