Posted: 07 January 2010 at 10:24pm | IP Logged

Yes this may be surprising, I was only 13 years old that time. But, don't know how or why it happened to me so early. I fell deeply in love with a guy, who I used to think was annoying 2 months ago.
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It was 1997, in Chittagong, Bang- ladesh, me and my family have just moved to a new apartment in a new area. So, after few weeks have passed, I started going back to school, since it was during Ramadan we moved. Well, I made some new friends in the neighborhood. This girl who was always hanging out with, her name was Ivy.

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One day when I was going to school, I bumped into Ivy on the way out of my building, and she was standing next to this guy, he lived in the building right beside mine. He said ¡°Hi¡± to me, and we just asked each other ¡°how are you¡± and blah blah, then I had to leave. But I noticed that guy was looking at me. It was a different kind of look, look with love in his eyes. Few days later, I noticed whenever I go to school and come back from school, he is standing in his balcony, and smiling at me. If he is not around, and one of his friends see me, they start to yell out his name. Oh yeah, by the way, his name was Mamun.

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So, I was very annoyed by those things. And I even told Ivy to tell Mamun to stop these foolishness. After my exams were over, I had a break. So I used to go to the roof and read books to spend my time. Mamun used to come to their roof also and both roofs where so close to each other that you can just jump from one to another.

Once I was reading a book, and I noticed Mamun come to their roof and he looked at me, and smiled. OH MY GOD! I don't know what happened to me. That sweet smile just took me away. I smiled back at him, for the first time. I could never forget that moment. We used to smile at each other whenever we saw each other, but never had a chat. I was sure that he liked me a lot, because, anytime he would see me on the roof from his balcony, he came up to the roof right away. I fell in love with him very deeply. I was surprised that I did. The feelings I had was so beautiful and made me so happy.

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Mamun did come to my roof one day to talk to me but I wanted him to go away. I didn't want any one to see us talking. As you know, in Bangladesh rumors go around so fast. When we talked, I saw deep love in his eyes. I always smiled at him; I didn't talk to him much. Still, life was going on so wonderfully. Mamun never told me he loved me. I thought that was because, I was 5/6 years younger than him.

Very soon, I found out that me and my family are leaving Bang- ladesh and coming to Canada. I was devas- tated. I cried all night but there was nothing to do. When Mamun found out, he asked me on the roof, if it was true. When I said yes, he asked how long will I be in Canada. The answer was maybe forever, we were going to settle in Canada. He looked depressed, all he said was ¡°Oh¡±, then I told him out flight date.
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The next month, it was Ramadan again. Mamun came to say good bye to me on the roof, he was leaving to spend his Eid with his family. That day, I was so sad, I felt like I lost something very important in my life. We said goodbye to each other, he said he thinks I am such a sweet girl, he hopes I have a great life in Canada. Oh my god, I couldn't hold myself, I think my eyes became watery. I didn't want him to see that I was crying. I said ¡°you too¡± and tried to smile and left the roof right away.

That was the last day I ever saw my first love. Now 4 years later, here I am in CANADA. I have guy in my life now, whom I am deeply love with after Mamun. I never lose him.

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I am ... over Mamun now. Everytime I remember those days, looking at each other on the roof, talking, I feel really down. I wonder where he is now, if we will even meet again... I can never forget my first love.

Posted: 30 January 2010 at 2:30am | IP Logged

In the doorway of my home, I looked closely at the face of my 23-year-old son, Daniel, his backpack by his side. We were saying good-bye. In a few hours he would be flying to France. He would be staying there for at least a year to learn another language and experience life in a different country.

It was a transitional time in Daniel¡®s life, a passage, a step from college into the adult world. I wanted to leave him some words that would have some meaning, some significance beyond the moment.

But nothing came from my lips. No sound broke the stillness of my beachside home. Outside, I could hear the shrill cries of sea gulls as they circled the ever changing surf on Long Island. Inside, I stood frozen and quiet, looking into the searching eyes of my son.
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What made it more difficult was that I knew this was not the first time I had let such a moment pass. When Daniel was five, I took him to the school-bus stop on his first day of kindergarten. I felt the tension in his hand holding mine as the bus turned the corner. I saw colour flush his cheeks as the bus pulled up. He looked at me-as he did now.

What is it going to be like, Dad? Can I do it? Will I be okay? And then he walked up the steps of the bus and disappeared inside. And the bus drove away. And I had said nothing.

A decade or so later, a similar scene played itself out. With his mother, I drove him to William and Mary College in Virginia. His first night, he went out with his new schoolmates, and when he met us the next morning, he was sick. He was coming down with mononucleosis, but we could not know that then. We thought he had a hangover.

In his room, Dan lay stretched out on his bed as I started to leave for the trip home. I tried to think of something to say to give him courage and confidence as he started this new phase of life.

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Again, words failed me. I mumbled something like, "Hope you feel better Dan."
Now, as I stood before him, I thought of those lost opportunities. How many times have we all let such moments pass? A boy graduates from school, a daughter gets married. We go through the motions of the ceremony, but we don¡®t seek out our children and find a quiet moment to tell them what they have meant to us. Or what they might expect to face in the years ahead.

How fast the years had passed. Daniel was born in New Orleans, LA., in 1962, slow to walk and talk, and small of stature. He was the tiniest in his class, but he developed a warm, outgoing nature and was popular with his peers. He was coordinated and 6)agile, and he became adept in sports.

Baseball gave him his earliest challenge. He was an outstanding pitcher in Little League, and eventually, as a senior in high school, made the varsity, winning half the team¡®s games with a record of five wins and two losses. At graduation, the coach named Daniel the team¡®s most valuable player.
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His finest hour, though, came at a school science fair. He entered an exhibit showing how the circulatory system works. It was primitive and crude, especially compared to the fancy, computerized, blinking-light models entered by other students. My wife, Sara, felt embarrassed for him.

It turned out that the other kids had not done their own work-their parents had made their exhibits. As the judges went on their rounds, they found that these other kids couldn¡®t answer their questions. Daniel answered every one. When the judges awarded the Albert Einstein Plaque for the best exhibit, they gave it to him.
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By the time Daniel left for college he stood six feet tall and weighed 170 pounds. He was muscular and in superb condition, but he never pitched another inning, having given up baseball for English literature. I was sorry that he would not develop his athletic talent, but proud that he had made such a mature decision.

One day I told Daniel that the great failing in my life had been that I didn¡®t take a year or two off to travel when I finished college. This is the best way, to my way of thinking, to broaden oneself and develop a larger perspective on life. Once I had married and begun working, I found that the dream of living in another culture had vanished.

Daniel thought about this. His friends said that he would be insane to put his career on hold. But he decided it wasn¡®t so crazy. After graduation, he worked as a waiter at college, a bike messenger and a house painter. With the money he earned, he had enough to go to Paris.

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The night before he was to leave, I tossed in bed. I was trying to figure out something to say. Nothing came to mind. Maybe, I thought, it wasn¡®t necessary to say anything.

What does it matter in the course of a life-time if a father never tells a son what he really thinks of him? But as I stood before Daniel, I knew that it does matter. My father and I loved each other. Yet, I always regretted never hearing him put his feelings into words and never having the memory of that moment. Now, I could feel my palms sweat and my throat tighten. Why is it so hard to tell a son something from the heart? My mouth turned dry, and I knew I would be able to get out only a few words clearly.

¡°Daniel," I said, "if I could have picked, I would have picked you."

That¡®s all I could say. I wasn¡®t sure he understood what I meant. Then he came toward me and threw his arms around me. For a moment, the world and all its people vanished, and there was just Daniel and me in our home by the sea.
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He was saying something, but my eyes misted over, and I couldn¡®t understand what he was saying. All I was aware of was the stubble on his chin as his face pressed against mine. And then, the moment ended. I went to work, and Daniel left a few hours later with his girlfriend.

That was seven weeks ago, and I think about him when I walk along the beach on weekends. Thousands of miles away, somewhere out past the ocean waves breaking on the deserted shore, he might be scurrying across Boulevard Saint Germain, strolling through a musty hallway of the Louvre, bending an elbow in a Left Bank caf¨¦.

What I had said to Daniel was clumsy and trite. It was nothing. And yet, it was everything.