The beginning of a story

I know we were able to survive this. I know I made it so that we never would. I couldn’t give you the space you asked for, you couldn’t hold me the way I needed you to. I wanted to take you with me. Everywhere I went. But the time and the place never seemed to match the space we were in. 

I took the car and you wanted to walk. No wonder our paths lead us to two completely different destinations. 

I remember meeting you all those years ago. In the rain, no less. How cliché. We checked our coats and walked into the same conference room in a building full of different conferences. Both teachers. Of course. 

This year's mandatory conference was about keeping up with the times. How important it is to live, at least partly, in the worlds of the children we teach. We shouldn’t speak solely in slang, sure, but know some of the words. Try to listen to the music on the radio, even if everything sounds the same to your ears. Maybe even learn some popstars’ names, or the newest edition to the media: memes. 

Not the “Keep calm and ..” series, that one is for boomers and Gen X. The speakers’ tip was to look for memes you didn’t understand at first sight. Especially the ones that seem to elicit laughter from youngsters for no aparrent reason. Those are the inside jokes. How we were supposed to take them into our vocabulary, she didn’t say. I wish there were tutors for learning to stay relevant.

All in all, there were some interesting points made. I spoke to some people I knew and some new acquaintances, but nothing noteworthy. Every now and then I stole a glance in your direction. The guy from the coats. I didn’t see you speaking to anyone I knew. 

I wanted you to come talk to me, but I never saw you looking. So when I walked out, I deliberately slowed down and said goodbye to some work/friend/colleagues of mine. So that if you were interested at all, you knew this was your chance. 

I love little schemes like that. Most of the time they don’t work, but that night.. That night I saw you appear in the doorway as I was finding a route home. And you asked if we could share a cab. I often wonder if I would’ve done the same things had I known the ending. And then I curse myself for being so intricately human to wonder such things. But I do, and I always come to the conclusion that I always would’ve wanted to know you. And I would always want to know me during you too.