When summer break arrived, Emily and I agreed to exchange letters. This was a big step for me. Letters took time, took planning, took effort. Letters were more personal than emails, were more honest than internet chatting. The hope that I hadn't allowed to die was beginning to take root. Naturally, I decided to water it with a healthy combination of optimism and wishful thinking. I sent her a fabulous, intricate letter that I had spent hours crafting and was overjoyed when I received her equally fabulous reply.
Summer ended (as they often do), and we returned to Jackson to continue our studies at Belhaven. Then things began to get tricky. By the time that I realized I liked her, I became too timid to actually talk to her. This tendency is not exceptionally conducive to the establishment of successful relationships, as you can imagine. Emily noticed that I didn't talk to her as much, and she wondered what had happened. At the time, she thought we had become pretty good friends, and she couldn't figure out why I would be avoiding her.
Despite my timidness, I couldn't completely forget about Emily. The hope that had sprouted during the summer was parched, certainly, but still not dead. In fact, I spent many mornings sitting on a little bench outside of her class and secretly hoping to see her. I understand now that this sort of behavior is generally discouraged (the word “stalker” comes to mind), but I was too lonely to stay home and too nervous to approach her.
Early in the semester I was able to overcome my shyness for a moment, and I invited her to the writing lab where I was working so that we could exchange summer stories. To my surprise, she actually came! The conversation was lively and fun, and I hoped that such moments would happen more frequently.
Occasionally that semester we would sit in the white rocking chairs near the student center and talk. It took a great deal of courage for me to sit next to her if I saw her there. Usually I would walk past, pause to deliberate, pray for courage, wring my hands in desperation, then walk away. But sometimes I would overcome my fear and join her. She generally had studying to do. Sometimes I would pretend to, but I never really did.
On a particularly sunny afternoon, I found her studying outside with a group of her friends. I plopped down next to her and began doing some creative writing exercises. Exercises which, to be honest, I had created for myself so that I could seem busy. We chatted and pretended to be working on classwork for several hours. I'm fairly certain, however, that neither of us accomplished anything. That was the moment that I realized just how beautiful Emily is.
more to follow...
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