The Wolf's Eyes

The Wolf’s Eyes



I sit at my desk and he stares at me.  He’s beautiful.  Light brown eyes with gold coronas.  I feel as if he’s peering into my soul.  It’s an odd feeling.  When I first turned the page of the calendar and saw him, I immediately thought of you.  Each time I look up at him, I see you.  If only I could REALLY see you!



It’s been five months . . . two since we’ve spoken on the phone.  Some days it’s easier – the ache isn’t quite as bad.  In my wildest dreams I never thought I would be having this experience.  Funny how life takes twists and turns.  I have had the occasional “date.”  Thought that would help me move on.  But it only makes me realize how special you are. 



Sometimes I wonder if it was a fantasy world I lived in.  It was, and continues to be, obvious that you weren’t the Prince Charming I was looking for -- the man who would scoop me up and take care of me into my old age.  But I was inexplicably drawn to you.  I knew that your heart was pure from the first time we spoke – and that you had a tender heart.



I apparently fell in love with you.  A love that is unexplainable and irrational.  Red caution flags popped up warning me to be wary.  You were too young; too impetuous and too passionate. Those traits were incongruent with my more conservative, laid back personality.  And then there’s my compulsive need to plan.  I’ll always remember you telling me not to apologize for that because “that’s what you do.”



When we were together it didn’t feel like you were nearly 20 years younger.  Perhaps because you encouraged me to act more youthful; or maybe it’s because you are an old soul.  You challenged me intellectually, as well as taught me to embrace the joys of life; to keep my heart up.  You always were kind and considerate.



But did I misinterpret your kindness?  Did you return my affections because you were too kind to turn them away?  Did you really love me? 



The wolf’s eyes look down at me with compassion as if he understands my sadness.  I want to turn the page because he makes me think of you.  I don’t want to turn the page because he makes me think of you.  Perhaps when the end of the month comes along and I turn the page, maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to move on. 



That last day we were together was incredibly special for me.  Another all-nighter; starting with cocktails at the bar around the corner; back to the hotel and then walking (maybe more like stumbling) hand-in-hand through the Commons at 3 a.m., giggling and talking, mildly concerned that we would be arrested for drunk and disorderly behavior.  As I watched you leave the hotel that morning, I said a quick thank you prayer; grateful for the time we shared and believing that that was the last time I would see you.  I was momentarily content because I believed that was how our time together would end.  A quick goodbye; thanks for the memories and move on to another chapter of our lives, independent of each other. 



With eight hours left until I had to be at the airport, I went to get something to eat.  I wasn’t really hungry, but I was looking for something to help pass the time.  When the phone rang and I saw it was you, my heart pounded.  And when you invited me to “your neighborhood,” I couldn’t believe it.  It was then that I really thought that you loved me, even though you fought the feeling.  Within minutes I was on the subway heading your way.



I almost felt like you were showing me off to your neighbors as we walked through Dorchester, your arm wrapped tightly around me.  You seemed proud to have me on your arm.  I knew you were a bit uncomfortable inviting me into your home, but you did anyway, and that touched me more than anything else.  I felt that you truly trusted me.  I didn’t want it to end.



When the time came for me to leave and you walked me to the subway, it was so difficult to watch you walk away, again.  I wanted to run after you.  But I remember you told me you didn’t like long good-byes.  So I just let you go.  You, in your black leather coat, walking away, and me, lost in my heartache.  So, it is here that I say my long good-byes. 



And now, you’ve moved on.  I hope that when I turn the calendar page, that I too, will be able to move on.