As I sit at my desk, or in the café, or find myself walking down the street, I look on others, just like me, who make a largely solitary pilgrimage through life, filled with thoughts and dreams . Who knows what it is they run from or seek: I am not privy to their thoughts, but sometimes in their eyes I see mirrors of my own and that brings some solace to man who sits beside his memory and nurses its images.
At her death, at least, I could grieve her passing, and curse the accident which snatched her from my life. In her presence I had been the very figure of rectitude, aware always that she would not be burdened by the emotions she aroused. She, I always understood, must be free to travel as she would, and explore as she must, the world which beckoned her to each and every corner of its surface, until, in one moment, almost as an afterthought, she found herself trapped beneath a vehicle and shortly after left this life.
She knew I loved her, that was clear to see, but also that I knew that love cannot always be returned, or not with her, and I would not exert a tax upon her person. She who teased my presence with her smile, and the way she touched the world around her, never let it trap her in one place and I, who knew her as well as she would be known, made no reference to my contemplation. The discovery of perfection does not imply possession and life lived in the present is often understood only hindsight I believe: tribes and animals who live in, and tend the wilderness, are threatened by our curiosity, and so it was with her.
I could stand with her but only at a distance, love her but not use that word, and protect her privacy as if it were my own. To witness such a life and being, it seemed to me, was the rarest of gifts, and I accepted the price of it, as if it were a trifle, such was her magic in my eyes. She could come and go in my life, as she saw fit, and so she came and went.
Now, despite her passing, she is always with me, and I who have lived a varied life full of adventures enjoyed by those who seek an identity, and mingled with all kinds of company, not always chastely I admit,am free to talk to her as I wish.