Following My Dream

“I’m going to teach in Indonesia,” I told Colin.

For a moment, silence hung in the air, and in that long moment, I wondered if I’d lost him. After all, who would let their girlfriend (even a sometimes girlfriend) go halfway across the world and still hang onto her?

“I didn’t know a move was in the works," he finally said. But, to his credit, he rallied back. "But anyway, if ya want, I’ll take ya to the airport.”

"Are you sure? It leaves from Pittsburgh.”

“Three hours away? I think I can handle that. Now, if I only knew where Indonesia was ...”

On the way to the airport, we talked non-stop. I leaned over the stick shift and reached for his hand. I loved the connection we had in spite of our frequent separations. Colin had a seasonal job digging well, and came back to Pennsylvania occasionally. The Irish in him came through with his stories.

"...and one day a well I was digging began to cave in. I jumped out of the 'dirt scooper,' and ended up with my feet in the air and my mouth full of dirt. I can tell you that I was starting to panic and it was no picnic," Colin said, flailing his arms at the wheel in a comical way. He had to brake quickly, and for some reason neither of us knew, we both laughed hard. I nearly choked. 

Talk of rice paddies, Bahasa Indonesia and other tales about California oil wells kept us occupied on the drive to the airport. The one thing we didn't talk about was us.

At the airport café, we held hands and said our goodbyes over a quick coffee. “I can’t believe you got us lost,” I teased.

“Me? You were so busy talking about those In-do-ne-sian rice paddies,” he said tapping my nose as he stressed each syllable. “Is it any wonder I missed my turn-off.”

My heart thrilled even as I wondered what we had in common. “Oh you.” 

With his sandy-colored hair, dimples and quick smile, he sometimes left me tongue-tied. His tanned face and well-formed muscles from the recent well-digging he did made me wonder what he saw in a clumsy, non-athletic, brown-haired girl like me. Now you can add ‘going blind’ to your stellar list of attributes.

His eyes found mine over the table. What beautiful blue eyes!    

He squeezed my hand and bent to kiss me. “Am I gonna hafta wait a whole year to hear your first-hand account of them thar rice paddies? Are you gonna come home with one of those thick banana-leaf hats and a pocketful of rice?” He pulled me closer and kissed me again.

 “Maybe,” I whispered. We had only this moment. 

I suddenly wished I could have held onto him, that I didn’t have to board the plane and that he didn’t have to go back to digging wells.

My face must have reflected my indecision or raised some kind of flag to Colin. 

"What?" He asked, recoiling in shock. "Do I have four eyes or something?"

“Do you remember when I gave you that bar of Irish Spring soap and that poem?” I said suddenly.

He laughed. “I never got a poem about a bar of soap before. I wondered if you were telling me I needed a shower.”

"Oh, don't give me that. You got a kick out if it and  said I was quite the romantic one." 

Oh Colin …maybe romance isn't for us. You love a good party. I hardly ever go to one.  You’re a real guy’s guy. What am I doing with you? You don’t even have a relationship with the Lord!

We didn’t make any promises to write. Maybe we both knew our sense of daring is all that we had in common. Would we ever meet again?

I lifted the strap of the maroon leather bag I’d picked up in Costa Rica and slid it over my shoulder, grabbed my carry-on suitcase and set it on its wheels. “Time for me to go.”

He wrapped me in a bear hug and kissed me a last goodbye, then playfully pushed me on my way. “Go get ‘em, Prof.”

“Don’t get buried in the California dirt!” I called back.