Of birthdays and pain.
I met V last week. She carried a huge smile, and a very welcoming warmth, when we met and she was kind enough to host me in her place in Yangon. We clicked. Not in a romantic way, but in a way where two souls come together and immediately understand how much they have in common, being because of that super comfortable with each other. We spent hours talking, about everything and nothing. She was excited. She had recently met someone who made her heart race, and they were going away in a few days. I was happy for her. I was truly happy for her.
I left a couple of days later, to explore the country, and meet some students in their hometowns. The trip was wonderful, after what had been a rough year in Nu Poe, the refugee camp in such a forgotten part of the world. I returned to Yangon, to fly back to BKK, with my heart full. I arrived super early in the morning, and went to knock on V’s door, to say goodbye, as I was flying later in the day.
I coincidentally went up the stairs with her cleaning lady, who was arriving at the same time. V opened the door to let the lady in, unaware I was already there. She looked at me, and barely said a word. Her beautiful light eyes were now grey and heavy. The colour was gone. I understood something was wrong. We went to the balcony, and sat down while having tea. The possible relationship had collapsed. They were not in synch. He had told her that last night, after they had taken the trip and parted ways. He hurt her.
There were tears, as we sat outside. So many feelings and so much pain, in what became such a warm, intimate moment. What was shared was from the heart, and was shared in an atmosphere of complete trust and safety. We talked, about love and sorrow, about good and bad, about pain and healing, until V eventually had to leave for work. She was now carrying a shy smile on her face, amidst all the pain.
I a bit later left for the city, with a clear objective in mind. The original plan was to just to wander aimlessly, and discover hidden spots in the city until it was time to fly – but I now wanted to find something to make her smile again. After a while, after exploring a few street markets, I finally find the prettiest, more colourful flowers I could find. I bought them with the little money I had left from the trip. I return home, and put them on a jar, and on the table in the front hall. I grab my pen and improvise a small card. I could not allow for V to go to sleep that night not feeling she was loved – because she was. I told her that. I hoped she would feel it. I left the spare key on the table, and left.
We did not talk until, a couple of days later, I receive a message from her.
“The main thing I want to say is very simple thought: Thank you!
I know you realized what a difference it made to me that you were there on Thursday morning. You really saved me that morning! And again in the evening, when I got home and found the card and the flowers, which continue to make me smile every time I see them since.
Thank you for being there, for being kind, for being willing to collect my tears, for spending so much warmth and consolation, for smiling and making me smile and all of this as the most natural way of acting.
Maybe our paths will cross again. I sincerely hope so.”
I never saw V again. We barely spoke, since that time, too. And that is ok. I know that small, simple gesture, will continue bringing a smile to her face, whenever she remembers it. I often remember it too – and, by doing that, my heart feels warm, and a smile naturally unfolds.
I thought of this today because it’s V’s birthday. I made her feel loved that time. And, now, that memory makes me feel loved, every time I think of it. Happy birthday, beautiful V. I will go to sleep feeling warm inside - and I can only thank you for that.
02.04.2015
