The Day My Heart Should Be Rejoicing

Life has a funny way of taking an unexpected right turn, where you’re heading in one direction day after day, then suddenly something flips everything upside down and within seconds you’re heading in a totally different direction. One unimagined!

This happened to me today and I’m still speechless — unable to comprehend it all yet.

How is it possible?

Something I’ve dreamed about for so long, had given up on years ago, then out of the blue, wham — here’s your dream come true. Enjoy!

How unpredictable life really is, sometimes in such a wonderful way, sometimes in a devastating way.

Let me explain. Let me satisfy your curiosity.

It all started thirty five years ago, when I was just a young girl. Typical story — girl meets boy, falls in love — but in this instance the love wasn’t returned.

No, I watched from afar as he met his great love, wooed her and made plans for their forever.

It was heart crushing, let me tell you.

I watched from the sidelines for about ten years, until it got too tough, and I slowly disappeared from his life. I had to protect my bruised, broken, raw bloody heart.

I had hoped that given enough time I’d mend that broken useless vessel but no, it pained me for many a year. So long that my days of finding love were over. I’d reached middle age, forever to be alone, or so I thought.

Six months ago, I was shopping in my little grocery store, and who should I collide with? Seriously, my trolley ran right into him as I wasn’t watching where I was going. I was so embarrassed I wanted to shrink to ladybird size and scamper under the shelf.

Here I was, a grown arse woman and I can’t drive a trolley. Oh dear!

Then I looked up into the most perfect blue eyes. Eyes I had longed for, year after year after year. I soon become lost once again as I realised I’d forgotten how to use the English language — I’d reverted back to my silly school girl days.

Then the ice broke as he whispered my name in shock and I smiled.

“Hello Martin, I do apologise as I didn’t see you there. How have you been all these years?”

He responded in some way, but I’m damned if I can remember what he said. All I can remember is drowning in those sea blue eyes. I didn’t want to resurface, didn’t want the pain in my beating heart to overwhelm me once again.

Well, let me tell you, that horrendous first meeting has seen a beautiful friendship re-bloom over the last six months. I don’t even care that he’ll never be mine, I’ve decided never to loose our friendship again.

Then I woke this morning. Just a normal day, no real plans, just pottering around in my little cottage doing all the things I love to do.

I’m not expecting anyone so I slip into my favourite old sarong as soon as I climb out of bed. It’s an old piece of material really, not much to look at, but oh is it comfortable. I wouldn’t be seen dead in it though if I had a choice.

Just after I’d finish breakfast and I’m deciding how to start my day, I hear a clattering and a thump on my front verandah. I’ve no idea what the noise can be but curiosity gets the better of me and I have to check it out.

And that’s when life serves me a curveball and it suddenly changes directions faster than I can blink.

I gingerly open the front door, expecting some type of animal to be the cause of the noise.

But instead, I glimpse the tail end of a drone — you know one of those new fandangle tech things that fly and hover and do other things I don’t understand. Yes one of those.

Then I look down and there, on my front mat is a small mysterious brown box, wrapped in brown paper and low and behold, if it didn’t have my name on it.

Should I pick it up? Should I be scared? Should I run a mile?

Oh damn it, just pick the blasted thing up and open it, you stupid girl, I tell myself.

Before I do, I walk out further onto my verandah and check the surroundings. Is there someone out there, flying that fandangled gadget? Am I making a fool of myself?

I rush back to the front door, scoop up the package, rush inside and slam the front door shut behind me. As I lean against the back of the door, I struggle to get my breath under control.

Oh you twit, you’ve scared yourself silly, I chastise myself.

I head back to the dining room, place the mysterious box on the dining table and sit staring at it for some time. I can’t bring myself to open it.

I do check it thoroughly, though it gives no clue as to where or who it’s from.

I leave it there and go about my day.

I head out to start some gardening, but that box has scrambled my brain. I didn’t last ten minutes and I’m back at the table looking at it.

***

I throw the washing in the machine, then back to the table and the brown box.

***

I hang out the washing and return to the table and that infuriating box.

***

I strip the bed, back to the box.

***

I watch a movie, heading back to the box three times during my viewing time.

Until finally I’m left with no choice. I MUST open that damn box! It’s become an addiction to my addled mind. I’ll get no peace until I open it.

I carefully sit on the dining chair, reaching for that box, like it’s about to explode. I slowly begin to peel off the sticky tape holding the brown paper together, then carefully fold the brown paper neatly and place it beside the box.

There now lays a small, naked, brown box, with a silver heart on the side facing me.

I reach for it again, and delicately peel back the lid, glancing inside.

My heart stops for a couple of beats. Am I dreaming?

There, the first thing I see is a black and white photograph. A photograph that has been recently taken and that photograph is of Martin, down on one knee.

Martin, the love of my life, down on one knee.

What, why, how, where?

I didn’t have any photos of Martin because my heart couldn’t look at them. It was too painful, even in a photograph, because I get lost in those pure blue eyes.

I pick up the photo and gaze longingly into those eyes. Grey in this picture but I know, intimately, what colour those eyes are, how they change when he’s happy, again when he’s angry and once again when he looks longingly upon someone he loves.

Longingly in a way he has never looked at me!

I place his photo on the table and turn back to the box.

What, why, how, where, when?

There nestled into a cluster of black velvet, is the most perfect diamond ring.

Now my heart doesn’t stop, it stutters, irregular beats jumping all over the place. It doesn’t understand. I don’t understand!

I once again pick up Martin’s photograph and gaze in confusion into those blue eyes. I then turn the photo over and read the beautiful, impossible inscription written in his glorious hand, on the back.

“Samantha, will you do me the honour of becoming my forever love, my wife, to grow old and happy together?”

I’m not kidding, that is the inscription written on the back of that photo. An inscription offering me my life’s biggest dream, my most perfect longing.

Suddenly, my heart stuttering stops, gives another irregular beat and then sends a horrific, agonising pain down my left arm. I fall to the floor, clutching my chest, as my silly, overemotional, raw bloody heart gives one more ferocious beat, before laying broken and silent forever more.

If you liked my writing, please click on the small heart underneath, near my name. Or send me a tip and let me know you enjoyed it.

****

Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.

If you enjoy this piece, you may enjoy this one too.