The first memory
So, here I am, in bed, staring at the clock. It's 3 a.m., and all I can do is replay every stupid thing I've ever done, every mistake, every embarrassing moment. It feels like a heavy blanket of regret, and the clock just makes everything worse. I'm stuck in my head, judging myself super harshly. The past just keeps getting in the way, making it hard to see the future. As I keep dwelling on these thoughts, I glance at the clock, watching each minute tick away. I hadn't realized I'd drifted off to sleep, but soon enough, my phone alarm jolts me awake. Ugh, the fact that I'm late for work hits me, but I can't help but keep scrolling through videos on my phone. I waste so much time, totally ignoring how stressed I'm getting. Finally, I get out of bed, feeling super bummed. Looking at the ceiling, I'm just filled with this sad longing. I start thinking about "what ifs" and wish things were different. Like, what if instead of the annoying alarm, I got a sweet "good morning" text from my ex, the guy I used to love? It hurts, remembering how good that could feel. It's been way too long since I felt loved like that. I keep thinking about how my last relationship ended, it was so awful, and it left me feeling so lost. That ending really messed me up, making me forget what real love and happiness even are. I had almost given up on the idea of finding a perfect man. I would have completely abandoned the search, if I had only known that today would be the day, the beginning of something I could never have foreseen. If I had known I would see him again, I would have held on to hope. So, coming back to the present, I got ready for work and left for the day.
Is it not peculiar that I traversed the identical route, the same streets, rode the same train, and headed to the same destination for the past five years, yet I never laid eyes on him? Today, however, I did. As I boarded the train, umbrella in hand due to the heavy rain, I wore my usual shirt and blue jeans. My large bag was slung over my shoulder, and my hair was pulled into a messy bun. The "who's going to see me anyway?" attitude was strong that day, fueled by the fact that I hadn't taken a bath. If I had known, I would have at least made an effort, because I wasn't looking my best, or perhaps I was looking my absolute worst at that time. I carefully settle into my seat, the worn fabric offering little comfort against the day's anxieties. My eyes, scanning the packed train car, eventually land on a man, and he’s holding an umbrella identical to the one I'm clutching. A quick, dismissive, and judgmental thought surfaces in my mind: "How can a guy possibly carry such a... girly umbrella?" Then, just as I'm about to dismiss him completely, his phone vibrates. He answers, his voice taking on a gentle, reassuring tone. It's his mother on the other line. I've observed countless conversations between mothers and sons, where the bond is often casual and detached. However, this man's interaction is different. He speaks with such genuine warmth and respect, his voice soft and caring. He's calmly instructing her to close the car window, his concern palpable. I surmise she's traveling, and he's making sure she stays comfortable and healthy, preventing her from catching a cold. His actions and his tone are a stark, yet beautiful, contrast to the stereotypical portrayals I've encountered, leaving me feeling humbled and a little bit changed. He ends the call, and a flicker of realization crosses his face as he notices the identical umbrella clutched in my hand. A genuine smile spreads across his features, and he introduces the object, "It's my mother's actually." A lighthearted laugh escapes my lips, and I respond with, "Oh, I see." In that moment, a sudden impulse takes over me, a desire to bridge the small distance between us. I felt an undeniable urge to initiate a conversation, thinking, what could possibly go wrong with a simple interaction? Gathering my courage, I offer a compliment, "It suits you anyway." His response is a captivating smile, one that seems to light up the entire train car – perhaps the most charming smile I've ever witnessed. He's effortlessly stylish in a simple white t-shirt, well-worn jeans, a practical backpack slung over his shoulder, and the shared umbrella, a charming picture of understated coolness.He directed his gaze towards me and inquired, "So, do you happen to be a student?" My response was quick, "No, actually I work; I'm on my way to work." The ten minutes that had elapsed since I settled into the train seat felt like a fleeting eternity. Knowing that in just five more minutes I would be at my destination. If only those remaining five minutes could somehow elongate, extending the precious time we had to converse! His acknowledgment was a simple, "Okay," followed by the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of his fingers as he started typing something on his phone. A fierce desire, a burning impulse, the urge to ask for his number. But the encounter had unfolded with such dizzying speed. Caught in the whirlwind of the moment, I found myself paralyzed. In a desperate attempt to mask my growing feelings, I feigned disinterest and turned to my own phone.As my station arrived, I continued my act of nonchalance. "Well, well, well," I thought, surprised to see him disembarking at the same station. I mustered the courage to ask, "Where are you going?" As he mentioned my company's name, a thrilling realization dawned on me. "Something tells me this isn't the end," I mused, a flicker of excitement igniting within me.
