Square One

The problem with closure is that it rarely works. At least when it is unexpected.

Eight hours in from Vegas. My mind is a blur. I try to clear the cobwebs from my brain, but nothing seems to do the trick. I decide to check my emails and attempt some followup correspondence. I'm on Facebook and add as a friend one of the guys I've been partying with in Vegas. While reminiscing over a drink in the desert, we'd thrown around a few names of people from our past. One had stuck right smack in my craw and I couldn't quite shake it. I haven't seen her since Jimmy Carter was president. I wonder if she is on Facebook. Nah. Highly unlikely. I enter her name and bingo!

Wow! There she is. And, man... I am not ready.

The picture reveals a lot. Timelessly gorgeous, she has taken good care of herself. She is the same age as me and looks a damn sight better for the years. Her dark hair flows from a widows peak sweeping across a sculpted brow. With a pair of silver hoop earrings and an open neck blouse, her complexion radiates a healthy southern California glow. She possesses a Mona Lisa smile quixotically translating the sacred mysteries of her inner thoughts. All of this is good. I think.

But, it's those damned eyes that I lock into and I know at once this is the woman I had fallen head over heels for as a girl. It seems as if the stars have traveled a billion light years to land in her eyes and now shine back at me.

No, I tell myself. I am not that boy searching for love from so long ago. I am a middle aged, single man with three children who look up to and need my unconditional love and support. I wear the scars of the intervening decades that have forged my character and strengthened my identity. Where I was once a callow youth, experience dictates that I should by all rights have more answers than questions to the riddles of life.

And, there I stare in silence. For on that screen smiles a lovely face that once intoxicated me with its scent, gentle caresses and vibrancy. It is an overpowering sensation. I feel a release of energy rising from my stomach and a hot flash across my cheeks. Why am I blushing? My conscience quickly responds. You're blushing because of what you did to this beautiful woman. And, I know that little voice inside is shooting straight with me.

Do our choices in life shape our character? Or does our character teach us about choice? The weight of the question drifts off in the ether of pheromones I emit as I study her face. Jesus. Over the years, I've frequently wondered what became of her and my love. And, staring back a foot away is a smiling face with all of the answers to the countless questions I've asked myself since I was that boy. This is the very moment of truth. The years of anticipation and expectation are at an end. All I need to do is send a message and hope she responds.

Amidst the champagne euphoria of rediscovery, a nagging doubt bubbles up to the surface threatening to turn my emotional elixir flat. Why would she respond to me? In that instant of recognition, my conscience is laid bare. Drawing a long, deep breath, I stare back into those soulful eyes -- reflection pools of hope. I want to make certain that those are real sparkles and not just pixels manipulating my heart.

Sure, she'll reply I tell myself. Just click the mouse and wait. After 30-years, what have I got to lose?