In our lives, we have many dreams and desires. Some are attainable. Others are not.

One of those that may elude us is finding that special person in our life. We give it our best effort, but it never happens, and so we live . . .

A Life Unfulfilled

     I sat alone in the living room of my apartment, thinking about what my life might have been like had I been able to leave my comfort zone that day in the airport over forty years ago. But I couldn’t. I gazed out the window into a sky of soft, fluffy clouds and reflected back on my life that fateful day.

     Awakening a few minutes after nine on Saturday morning, I felt restless and bored, even before the day began. The sun peeked through the bedroom window and cast a wispy shadow on the room. It danced in a mysterious way that intrigued me. In my blasé state of mind, little things tended to catch my attention.

     I managed to roll my “aging” thirty-year-old body out of bed and trudged toward the bathroom. After washing up, I dressed and ate a small breakfast of oatmeal and some fruit. Then dragging myself to my new 1975 Chevy Malibu, parked in the carport across from my townhouse, I backed out and headed toward Sacramento International Airport.

     I wasn’t going anywhere or meeting anybody. I just wanted to get away from it all—to dream about fascinating places I may never visit and interesting people I may never meet.

     After parking the car, I crossed the street and entered the main lobby of Terminal B. It bustled with excitement. People rushed in all directions. The incessant chatter of the public address announcer made the scene even more chaotic.

     I stared at a large sign overhead and muttered, “Gates 18 to 23.” I walked up the stairs and entered a large waiting room surrounded by passenger boarding areas. I saw what looked like a comfortable, black leather couch near the center of the room. Moving toward it, I dropped my lethargic body onto a not so soft cushion. I leaned back, tried my best to get comfortable, and began to daydream.

     “Flight 233 from Denver now arriving at Gate 19,” blasted through the overhead speaker. Shaken from my world of dreams, but still somewhat dazed, I rubbed my eyes and made my way back to reality.   

     Regaining my composure, I stood, stretched my shaky legs and gazed at my surroundings. All of a sudden, a noisy, fast moving, pushy mob emerged from Gate 19 and charged toward me. I made a quick evasive move to keep from being trampled and stood on the sidelines scanning the faces in the crowd.

     I found myself eyeing a graceful young woman coming toward me. “She’s beautiful,” I whispered. Her long black hair flowed over her shoulders accentuating her delicate facial features. Her dark complexion presented a striking contrast to the white lace dress she wore. Though she appeared to be little more than five feet tall, the way she carried herself projected a confidence, which made her seem taller. 

     As she came closer, our eyes met. I smiled and she smiled back. She looked so sure of herself, so successful, so perfect. She had the beauty of an actress and the composure of a princess.      

     She moved passed me and descended down the stairway. I thought about following her and trying to gain her attention. But if I did, what would I say? I didn’t have a clue. So I just went back to my seat and began to fantasize about this elegant woman.

     Between announcements, the airport sound system blared an array of music I tried to block out. Then one piece caught my attention, my favorite song—Johnny Mathis’ “Misty.”

                                             “Look at me,
                                             I'm as helpless as a kitten up a tree;
                                             And I feel like I'm clinging to a cloud,
                                             I can't understand
                                             I get misty, just holding your hand.”

     I wanted so much to take her beautiful hand in mine. But I couldn’t, and I knew it would never happen. My eyes became misty, as I continued to listen to the song’s lyrics.

                                             “Walk my way,
                                             And a thousand violins begin to play,
                                             Or it might be the sound of your hello,
                                             That music I hear,
                                             I get misty, the moment you're near.”

     Yes, I should’ve run after her to tell her how I felt. But I didn’t move from my seat. I just sat there, as the song flowed from the ceiling speakers.

                                             “Can’t you see that you're leading me on?
                                             And it's just what I want you to do,
                                             Don't you notice how hopelessly

                                             I'm lost
                                             That's why I'm following you.”

     However, I didn’t follow her. I couldn’t muster up the courage to do so. So I reclined in my seat and lamented a love lost, as the music echoed through my head.

                                             “On my own,
                                             When I wander through this wonderland alone,
                                             Never knowing my right foot from my left
                                             My hat from my glove
                                             I'm too misty, and too much in love.”

     My head fell to my chest. Tears filled my eyes. Without the strength to fulfill my desire, my longing would remain just another dream in a life unfulfilled.

Copyright © 2014 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.