Nearly thirty years ago, I walked past a young woman standing waiting in a corridor. I recognised her as someone I knew slightly, but had never had a proper conversation with.
She was usually one of the most lively sociable people around, who was always surrounded by lots of friends who adored her. I am quite the opposite, a quiet introvert.
On this occasion, she looked deep in thought and didn’t seem to notice me at all. Still, I felt it would be rude not to acknowledge her in some way, so I said, “Hello.”
At last, she became aware of me and responded with, “Oh! Errrr. Hi.” In that moment of her thoughts being disturbed, she seemed curiously vulnerable. I detected a previously unseen melancholy about her. In a split second, I supposed that she must be deeply unhappy about some love affair gone wrong.
I never stopped walking and said nothing more. I was already in a relationship with someone so wasn’t looking for anyone else. In any case, I would have seen this impressive and popular lady as completely out of my league. She may have even started dating someone else at the time. If not, she soon would.
Nevertheless, I had the feeling that I should help her in some way, as if somehow she was my responsibility. Pretty quickly, my pragmatic side kicked in and told me that she certainly wouldn’t see me as her knight in shining armour, so I carried on walking and never looked back.
I could never have imagined that woman would one day marry me and have my children. I am sure all her friends would have laughed at anyone who suggested such a union. Yet it did happen, against all the odds and despite the inauspicious start. Not surprisingly, she says she had no recollection of that first encounter in the corridor.
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