The Unforgettable Stranger

Have you ever passed a woman on the street who was so stunningly beautiful you wanted to politely stop her and tell her--no secret hidden agenda, no subtle hustle, just letting her know her beauty was noticed?

She was like seeing a breathtaking painting in an art gallery: I didn't need to own or possess her beauty. I was just taken by her. I found it difficult not to stare. She chose a seat on the bus where no one could sit between us. I smiled and said hi, and in the friendliest tone she returned the hello. I married a beautiful woman, so I seldom found myself intimidated around nice looking women, but this strange attractive young woman actually caused me to be a little nervous. After our brief exchange, I thought that would be the end of the stranger-says-hello-to-stranger encounter, and began reading the newspaper I had just bought.

"Do you read a lot?" she asked with a smile.

"Only if it's news about the end of the world," I said with a grin. She laughed. Even her laughter was magnetic; with its lightness and sincerity.

She paused, and then said, "Did you know there are bacteria on the lime they squeeze into your drink? I love living life on the edge." She intentionally made the remark in an overly serious tone that really struck me funny.

It was as if we were old friends. I couldn't believe the ease with which we were talking. We both laughed at the same things. I was surprised at how relaxed we had both become in such a short amount of time. I was happily married, but I loved the way my heart felt, talking with this amazingly beautiful young woman.

Finally, I asked her, "Are you a model?" After I asked the question, I wanted to take it back.

She looked at me with her entrancing eyes, then in an obvious and playful way she replied with a sly grin, "That's so ironic, I was about to ask you the same thing." It was perfect timing, and we caught ourselves laughing, again.

Then she said something that truly surprised me. "Would you think me too forward if I asked you to share a cup of coffee with me? I know this nice outside cafe a few blocks from here, and I have a little time before I leave for the airport. I thought you were so friendly, and we hit it off...I wondered...if.."

Without thinking of anything else, I blurted out "I'd love to."

I wasn't trying to pick her up, but she was fascinating, and I wanted to know more about her. I wanted to hear her laugh more, talk more, feel this odd feeling just a little longer. We sat outside on this beautiful morning, and talked almost non-stop. There were no awkward moments. I didn't feel uncomfortable, or pressured in any way . We were two total strangers who, for whatever reason, hit it off, and seized the moment. It was unforgettable, and I think she felt the same way. The time flew by. We had talked about a little of everything, then she looked at her watch.

"It's time. I can't believe we had so much fun, and were so relaxed doing it. And, you didn't try once to hit on me," she laughed out loud as she slid her chair back.

"And finally, I didn't have to fend a woman off for a simple conversation," I said, smiling.

There life had put us; for a second, I felt a twinge of sadness. I realized how rare such encounters were. I looked at her once more as she prepared to leave. My God, she was striking, I thought to myself.

"Well, I guess I won't ever see you again, but I just want to tell you what a pleasure it's been meeting you. You take care, and never,ever change that magnetic personality," I said as she moved toward me.

Without warning, she laid her purse back on the table, wrapped her arms around me and gave me the sweetest, most heartfelt hug. She then tenderly kissed my cheek. I was caught off guard. She picked up her purse...looked me in the eyes...leaned close to my ear, and whispered,
"Good-bye, Dad, you were everything I've dreamed you would be."

With that she walked to the street, and immediately a cab stopped. As she pulled away she smiled, but it looked like she had a tear running down her cheek.

I stood there motionless, as my mind raced through summers past...