A Real Moment


Dear Eugene,

Last night at a picnic I sat quietly by a friend I've known for years, not wanting this or that, both of us taking in the same sea breeze and fading sun warmth, both of us in a world of our own.  Then she turned to me and started to tell me her life story, her deepest pain, things I did not expect to hear then or ever.

She kept saying no one could ever understand her but she talked as if I would.  She said the only person she could truly converse with is an inner voice when she is alone and finally do away with all the daylight bullshits to stay alive on the exterior of things.  Last night I was her inner voice, and I did not make a sound.

Her opening line of the night was, "Ah Yee (my Chinese name), I can tell you are a real person--"

Not much in life was real to her, not the sea breeze, not the sunset, not the things she has given her whole life for.  Even the one thing people know her for being an enthusiast of she confessed she had never meant any of it; it was only a distraction from the falsehood of life.  She kept talking about her crying but gave not the slightest hint she was ready to do that in front of everyone last night.

Well, Eugene, that was a real moment for sure, that conversation, her speaking to my silence and my silence to her pain.  A moment like that doesn't come by too often in real life.

Yours, Alex

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