In The Twinkling Of An Eye

Some moments happen in the twinkling of an eye, yet, they leave the impression of a lifetime. This is where I was when I met him at Morales'. A male server in his tuxedo, he came by to serve us. As he pushed his cart up the aisle to our table, I fixed my gaze on him. Tall, comely with a gentle demeanor, his caring spirit seemed to be the only thing that gave me a little sense of comfort. I couldn’t help but notice the ornament of grace that was upon his head. It was as though he knew how we felt. As he brought out the serving tray and placed our meal on the table, he seemed to be extending his sympathies. I was glued to his every move.

The fact that he was unknown to me wasn’t reason enough for me to turn my gaze away. Maybe we had known each other in another place, but I could no longer recall the circumstances under which this introduction might have taken place. Something in me wanted to grab him and beg him to take me away, far away from it all. There was nothing left of me, I thought. There was nothing left of me but the brokenhearted I had become.

There was nothing that had rendered me as intoxicated. It all happened so quickly. I didn’t take the time to think about what this would all mean. During the day, I was often lost in thought. A poem to fill my thoughts. A written note to occupy my time. A heart drawn when your eyes roam only to be scribbled over again. I did not know how to explain this change. I wondered if I should try to explain it at all. Some people might have said it was butterflies. Others might have said it was infatuation. Yet, another might have simply implied that it was falling in love. Whatever it was, I knew it was a first for me.

It was late afternoon when I looked at my watch. My teammates and I were still at the park practicing. It was particularly cloudy outside that day, but we didn't let it stop us from going to soccer practice. Thankfully, it didn't rain. Our coach had us working on our dribbling down the field and going for a goal. He had misplaced his passport and was looking for it as we practiced. Breathing a sigh of relief, he seemed to have found it. We were getting ready for a tournament. Running down the field in our cleats, shin guards, and high knee socks, we dribbled the ball down two by two towards the opposite goal. Yet most of the time, I was lost in thought. I was thinking about Morales', and consequently, I was thinking about him.

My brother had returned home the year after the funeral. We had spent the last six months of my junior year together, and this was the same year I met him. My brother had become good friends with him as well as his brothers. He had not met my mother and I wished that he had. She did not go to Morales' after the funeral. She gave my brother and I her blessing to go.

On a particular summer day when he seemed to be quite busy and caught up with some of his usual activities, I was frantically looking for him. I did not want to let on that approaching him was something that often left me feeling weak in the knees, but I knew I had to get his attention. This was my one chance to get a good picture of him. My brother and I had tried to take one or two of him at the wedding, but we still had not managed to take one with him. We were getting ready to leave for the summer, and I would be the only one returning during fall semester. I finally got a hold of him. I asked him if we could take a picture with him. This way, my brother would have some good pictures with him, I explained. And maybe my mother would also get a chance to meet him.

We ended up being about four people in the picture. Another server joined in on the picture. We managed to take the picture without his boss taking note. Shortly after, he was whisked away and had to return to serving.

My brother and I went the other way. We drove home in my brother's SUV, but we managed to stop at a park on the way home. It ended up being the same park where my soccer team had been practicing. We took our time walking around the park. We even got on the swings and played with the little children whose parents were sitting nearby on a bench. I was lost in thought as I would often be. How were we going to be away all summer long? How were we going make it without him there? How will I make it when I return alone on my own?