How surreal it was. I was sitting on the subway heading south to my lunch with L, when I looked up from my Blackberry at St. George Station. Jeff. It had been over a dozen years since I’d seen him, but he was instantly recognizable.
I didn’t think he’d seen me, so I took the next 3 stops to study him. He’d gotten so old. His hair was nearly gray, and his face looked worn and jowly. Hard to believe he was only a couple of months older than I am.
As we pulled out of Queen’s Park station and back into the darkness of the tunnel, I caught sight of my own reflection and realized that I, too, am not 15 anymore. My neck is starting to hang, and my weight has ballooned since my early twenties.My eyesight is poorer than ever, and someday in the not too distant future my lovely breasts will lose their pertness. Ugh. Age.
Jeff and I are both still handsome people, only much older. My mind flashed back to the Jeff from half a lifetime ago. He still looked good… but. But. There had been so much effort expended over a high school romance. So much misplaced anguish over the death of my mother the previous year. So much… history. Jeff was a pre-Dad story. A life before I became Oliver Twist.
As I got up to leave the train at St Patrick, I caught his eye. He nodded and mouthed “Hi Wendy.” He had seen me all along.
I smiled, then turned my back to him and shook my head. Shrugging off the ghosts of the past, I exited the train.
Don’t despair at all about age. Your best years are yet to come, trust me.
And did you ever write about the recent “hell” you went through and mentioned? Hope so.
You’re such a great writer. What a terrific vignette.
Excellent vignette, for sure…though probably much more “awkward” to experience than to read about. Thanks Wendy. Brings back memories of my own. And, I suspect that it will to many.
As someone about to turn 50 this year, I can attest to the fact that while we don’t look the same as we did in high school, our hearts do still feel with the zest of youth. I am so much happier at 49 than I was at 19, or 29 or 39. I found true love at 44. I would not have appreciated him at 24 or 34. Buck up dollface. Leave that past in the back of the train. Where it belongs.
[...] er, why am I bothering to tell you this? Well, I mentioned it yesterday in a post about seeing an old boyfriend on the subway. Seriously, it was just in passing [...]