Over the past several days, Kristin (the new designer) and I have been locked in my office working on a huge project for a local police department. The job involved scanning in approximately three hundred pages of type and manually editing each one, almost like a photograph. We had to clean them up, edit type and save them down. The process was long, tedious and as slow going as you can imagine. In order to keep sanity and avoid falling asleep we kept a pretty constant conversation going about different things. We talked about everything from music to Pee Wee's Playhouse and even and one brief exchange about how oranges and donuts just aren't very filling. Two people can cover quite a bit of ground in three, eight hour days. Eventually, as is often the situation, our pasts came up and we began to discuss high school and our old flames. She told me about her last love who she dated for three years, and other things from her early life that really helped to make the day pass quickly.
After a time, she began to tell me about a guy who was her best friend in high school. She said that the two of them were inseparable for almost four years. He would drive her places, help her study, and the two would go shopping regularly. He would get her homework and bring her medicine when she was sick, and he never failed to be her shoulder to cry on. Kristin sat back and really thought about it, saying that he would have done anything for her. She recounted on how his family loved her and that she really missed him. So I asked what the deal was, and how two people who were so close no longer saw one another.
She told me that in truth, he didn't want to see her anymore, that they had grown apart apparently. I knew there was more to that story, and in time she told me that their falling out had began shortly after she started a relationship with his best friend. This "best friend" being the guy whom she had dated for three years.
Just the thought of this situation make me feel sick in the pit of my stomach. I asked her, "Do you realize how much he loved you and wanted to be with you?" She blew off the idea saying, "He never showed any interest in dating anyone, and we were just friends." It was only then that it struck her, and after a few minutes of complete quiet in the office she said..."maybe the reason why he didn't show interest is because he wanted me." Now, in all honesty, a blind man could have seen this, but I guess it took her years to reflect on the situation and come to the realization. I said well, obviously you told him you were dating his friend, how did he react. She said, "Well, he was quiet."
I knew this quiet far to well. That deep silence is the sound of emotion and love for a person melting away from your heart, followed by a twitch of physical pain, and the distinct feeling of being punched in the stomach. It's the sound of your legs feeling soft and loose and your eyes fighting back tears. It's the silence of loving a person so deeply, you sit by and watch them fall in love with another person, and sacrificing your entire emotional well being for their happiness. It's the sound of pure love. Pure love that possibly later in life the girl may think back upon and regret letting it slip by.
With this quiet comes the wave of emotion and reflection. It's like you met this person by happenstance, and that life and placed you together for a reason. And with this person, you took the incentive and planted a seed of caring and confidence. You watched this seedling sprout into a tiny sprout, barely visible about the dirt. You gently moved dirt away from it's path, you watered it just enough. You nurtured this little flower, and tended to it's every need. You made sure it got enough sun, and soil, and kept anything that could be harmful away from it. With you, it was safe from weeds, drought, and despair. When it wasn't doing well, you gave it life and sat with it in the rain to ensure it didn't go a day without companionship and love. And finally, after many days and nights, good days and bad, happy days and sad days. The more the flower blooms, the more love you feel for it. It is at this time that you would sacrifice everything and give your last drink of water to the flower, if only to watch it stay happy and healthy for a single day.
It's at this point that someone from another place, comes into the picture with a vase to fill. The vase is old, and sits on his table. It's not of any particular importance, but he needs something beautiful to make his day better. So he simply walks up, and with a single pluck, you're life is gone. You feel spite and regret, and you want nothing more in life than to go back to a happy time when you were together. And you know in your heart that it was you who planted the seed, who made it feel loved, and special and cared for...but at the end of the day, you're just the gardener. And you have to come to the sobering realization, that this flower was never yours. You never claimed it, you never bought it, and as far as you know, your little seedling that you watched bloom is perfectly happy in that old dusty vase. And just as quickly as it left your life, one day the now wilting blossom realizes it's just on display. It's then that it wishes it were back where it was loved and cared for, it longs for the earth, and roots and back with the gardener.
In Kristin's case, her gardener's love had turned to spite, and I was almost drawn to tears when I thought of this guy and his time invested. Some might think he's wrong to feel that way, but I can't really blame him. He turned his back on the situation, lost hope and moved on to a lesser relationship, which he is still currently involved in. I don't think she will ever know what she lost, but I think our conversation gave her a pretty good idea. As for me, I still sit, patiently hoping and waiting, on a grassy mound, eyes on the horizon, basking in the sun, waiting in the rain, soil in hand.
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