It can be hard to identify the beginning of a memory. Life doesn't stop, and experiences accumulate, but we remember precious few. Looking back, my memory started when I recognized that I cared about my outfit.
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His comment was cute, and sincere, and funny, but my giggle was extended because of my own thought process: I knew I shouldn't have cared. But I did. I was happy that my attire was friendly, maybe even a bit flirty. I laughed because it shouldn't have mattered that I was wearing a bright yellow sleeveless wrap dress, but I sure loved it when he called it a sundress. I love the sun.
"Are you serious?" I smiled.
"Yep - totally serious."
I paused to consider his thought, then wondered if it was just a good line, so I asked him to repeat it.
"Repeat it?"
"Yes, I just want to be sure I get it."
"It's not rocket science, gorgeous."
And there it was, the fifth time he commented positively on my appearance. But I would not be put off. "I don't care what type of science it is - I'd like to hear it again".
"I think you're dressed for that book. It's a beautiful fall day, warmer than usual, and you're rocking a sundress. You're holding on to a season, Love, but that season is passing. You're casting wonderful shadows backward, but the future is inevitable. That's how you look, and that's your book."
I was a bit shocked. Not just that he knew the book, but because he seemed too young for such a deep perspective. "I've never focused on the good-bye aspect, I've focused more on the philosophy." I replied.
"You have to start with the good-bye! Almustafa dishes on all those topics because homeboy is about to leave." I was surprised by how well he knew Gibran's The Prophet. "And I think that's the trick, sweetheart: all good-byes should leave us with memories."
My good-bye was almost overdue. Afternoon's light had long faded and I needed to leave my sanctuary, the library, and head home. "I really like your perspective. Thanks for sharing it. I have to head home."
"Not yet." He pleaded as I stood.
"I'm afraid I have no choice."
"Alright. But I'll walk you to your car." I was flattered, but shook my head no.
"I won't take no for an answer. It's dark outside, the parking lot isn't well-lit, and a pretty girl should never walk alone."
I smiled both my acceptance and my surprise. I haven't been called a girl for a long time, and certainly not by someone less than half my age.