Then I relaxed a bit. And wondered how long I would wait for a response. If even there would be one.
After I sent the email, I went back about my tasks, and didn’t really think much more about Amy. Well, that’s a small fib. She did cross my mind, and I was curious what she would think when she read my note. And how long it would take her to answer, if she did.
14 minutes later, this arrived
“Holy smoke! Huge flashbacks!!
I could never forget you, Marty!!”
Ah, well that was quick! And dare I say, somewhat positive at least. I read further …
“This is awesome because I was recently going through a box from long ago and I found old letters from you when you were in Europe. I was back to that time in an instant! Such fond memories of you.”
Whoa! Hold on here. She has letters from me from this time when I was traveling? And she recently reread them? Isn’t that something! These “letters” would actually be aerograms. I know most of you won’t know what these were, but think of the flimsiest paper imaginable (to save on air transportation costs), colored a light blue, and prestamped. As I recall there were 4 sides you could write your “letter” on, then they would be folded up, a tab licked and sealed. She still has these flimsy pieces of paper from over 4 decades ago? This is becoming very interesting.
“Right now I’m sitting in the train station heading to a conference. I’ll email you later this evening when I’m finished with the stuff I have to do. We’ll catch up. Is that OK?”
My mind went numb. I have eliminated from her words the town where her conference would be happening. That’s because it’s MY town! Amy is ready to board a train headed for where I live. But she doesn’t know that because in my emails I have not mentioned where I reside.
I swallowed hard. Now I’m excited. And very unsettled. Because this is now at a place where I have no control. And that makes me uncomfortable. We exchange several more emails. I tell her my location, and that coincidentally I too have an event to attend this evening downtown. Less than 5 minutes from Amy’s hotel. And I shall be finishing about the same time as her initial gathering will break up.
Ponder this for a moment faithful Reader. Amy is one of those “who got away”. A girl who occupied my thoughts fairly significantly until I met Kate. A girl I last saw on a date perhaps 45+ years ago and whom I hadn’t seen and heard from in 40 years. Who recently had a chance meeting with one of my best friends in an emergency ward in a rural hospital, and gave him her contact info. Who on the day I decide to write her is boarding a train to my town and will arrive in several hours. Where our evening schedules overlap not 5 minutes apart.
I feel helpless. There are no choices to make here. Only instructions from some invisible force to follow.
Amy and I arrange to meet at her hotel …