I believe this strongly. So much in love is serendipity. Roberta's mom, and my Aunt Barbara (I learned this Christmas), both met their spouses walking down the road when their future husbands drove by. My parents met at a social club one ordinary night. If either of our parents had instead stayed home that day, had gone at slightly different times, or haddn't glanced up a certain moment, neither of us would be here, I wouldn't be typing this right now, and we'd never make our own connection a quarter-century later. Just a little nudge another way at a seemingly inconsequential momentum and so much life would be different.
I, too, have "missed connections". While I have no regrets over how life turned out, I still characterize my teens and early twenties as particularly lonely. My life suffered from lack of connections. So many moments would have been richer if shared!
When I think of my missed connections, here is what I think of:
- At the end of high school freshman year, you were the first girl I ever learned had a crush on me. We had never spoken, never had class together, yet you wrote "I love T.J." on your notebook. Several people saw it, everyone told me, and actually many warned me against you (without explanation). But, secretly, I had a crush on you, too, since I first saw you as an acquaintance's girlfriend. You asked a friend to give me your number and we spoke several times. You would never know, but things weren't ideal at home, so I never gave my house number to you. Moreover, the timing was just bad. We soon entered summer and lost touch. When sophomore year started and we had classes together I avoided you. But I still liked you. This is probably the opposite of what you thought, and I'm so sorry.
- You were two sisters at Epcot. Giggling, you approached and asked me whether I spoke Spanish. I didn't. I wanted to try.
- We met in the Typhoon Lagoon's wave pool. You came crashing down on me in the middle of a wave series. We tumbled in the wave, a tangle of limbs. Afterwards, you faced me flirtatiously giggling; I, sunburn-red blushing and mortified I'd done something inappropriate, repeated "sorry, Sorry!", my face focused downwards while hurrying away. You were incredibly beautiful.
- You were a horn player from another high school in the 1999 Orange Bowl halftime show, positioned down the line from me. When our bands were brought to the the beach for a recreation day, you found me as we waited for the buses. You asked your friend to take our picture. I was rubbing sand off my feet, not my sexiest moment. You asked us despite never speaking to me before. I wish I had a copy of that photo.
- You lived down my hall freshman year of college. We walked to discussion section together each Thursday that fall. You insisted we keep that appointment. I wasn't sure whether you wanted a connection or didn't want to walk alone. Being shy, it was easier to assume the latter.
- You filled the empty seat next to me, halfway through the ride, on the shuttle bus home from the 2001 Inaugural Ball. I was clearly dateless, silently despondent. You said you were headed to Froggy Bottom with your roommates afterwards. Was it an invitation to meet you there? Sorry, I can't, just can't do bars. If any other place. I could barely see your face in the dark; my roommate called you gorgeous.
- You sat next to me in an Oslo Internet cafe. After you sneezed I instinctively said "Bless you" (in English). You giggled as if I was a puppy peeing the floor, then rapid-fire typed (I assume the experience of my Yankee ill-sophistication). I wish we could have talked.
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