The Shadow of your Smile when you are gone..................... such sweet words evoke thoughts of love and loss and I find a long, submerged memory just begging to be brought to the surface.

Long ago when the grass was greener, water flowed in the rivers and the world was more fun I met a boy - a truly beautiful boy from overseas. Ali. And as I twiddle with my long range finder, our salad days come into view, those halycon days of youth. My twin brother and myself were part of a group that enjoyed wide ranging friendships of people from many nations, we were definitely at one with the social whirl; the parties, tennis matches, dinners, cocktails, concerts and the general mooching from one generous household to another. Life was good.

I had met my new friend's older brother about a year earlier and thought that Ali would be cut in the same mould - always a new girl on his arm - and changed about as often as his shirt. But Ali was different, quieter, studious and very handsome. And he became an integral part of our group of friends.

Over the ensuing months we slowly fell in love - exchanged many long looks across crowded rooms, looks heavy with unspoken words; a mutual assurance that because we were both in the same place at the same time, life was somehow better. I was a somewhat naive girl, just out of a boarding school where from an extremely tender age I had spent most of my life , subsequently I was unused to the ways of the world. No father,raised by women and only seeing my brothers during school holidays did not bring me to any great understanding in the ways of men.

Life and love were strange bedfellows, we saw each other every couple of days in our large and social group but we did not go out as a couple. He did not ask me so I was unable to say yes, I'd really love to go out with you! Time passed, feelings ran deep and still we spoke no words of love; but as I look back I can indeed see that this is what it was; in the truest sense it was love.

Then it was time for Ali to return to his homeland. I was devastated, we still hadn't spoken of personal matters, not even held hands, but my feelings for him were so strong I was ill. I knew he cared as much for me and couldn't understand why he didn't act in the open manner I was used to. However it was as much my fault as his that we were both suffering from the illness brought about by unrequited love. I had been brought up in such a protected manner I was unable to bring myself to make the phone call - talk about rigid but that was how I was. Then women didn't call men, just not done. Although free love was now the go I was slow, hadn't grasped the concept nor how it could be applied to me. Egalitarianism was more a concept than an actuality. So while the world was rapidly changing, with no new ground rules being presented I was at a standstill with no options.

The night before Ali was to go back to his homeland it was decided that everyone would come to our home for a late supper. The night was beautiful, the sky was a black star-encrusted cloak just waiting to be pulled off stage by a big, fat, tender moon. We all ate, drank and laughed; made speeches about how sorry we were to see him go, wished him well, and wished him joy. Inside I was dying.

At about ten o'clock Ali asked me to go for a walk with him. I accepted with alacrity. As we walked along he told me that yes indeed he loved me - I nearly exploded with happiness - but then he said that he had thought very long and hard about us. He had decided that as his future life was in Pakistan, he couldn't include me, couldn't marry me nor take me to his home as life would too hard, too different for me. I would be mainly living with women and I would not be treated well, even with his protection. The reality was that our cultural differences could not cross boundaries, held harsh personal limitations, and that the romance of difference did not apply.

And so I had my answers and they were not at all what I wanted to hear. At this stage I would have lived in a tent with him, but he knew better and saved me from myself. He loved me well enough to let me go. Tears and sadness followed for quite some months. Time passes, sorrows old become buried, but the mind does not completely forget the tears of the soul.

And I know that I will never forget the shadow of his smile; the beautiful, young man from across the waters.

copyright: a.a.gallagher 2008.

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