A Decade in Love- Pt II

In the summer of 1996 we crossed paths again when I visited my mother. I didn’t know what to say to him at first. All I could feel was a mixture of pain and great joy. I knew I was still in love with him- and could see he still had eyes for me. We spoke for hours trying to make sense of things but resolved that our worlds were too different to make our love work. We hugged goodbye; “Don’t worry honey, you never know what the future holds,” he said, “ten years from now we might just find each other one last time.” “And if that happens, don’t be afraid to come to me, I will leave aside whoever I’m dating.” I tried to hold back the tears, but still they fell on his shoulder.

From that day on, my heart began counting the days, months, and years until I met him again. The first year was the worst; I wept uncontrollably as if a part of me had died. Countless nights, I forced myself to eat and sleep. My family was worried, hearing me speak of him often. They knew I hadn’t let go of him. Not approving of our relationship in the first place, they said that it was better to forget him- the pain would go away soon. But it never did. I dreamt with him almost every night, sometimes good dreams; sometimes nightmares I couldn’t decipher. I dreamt I saw him sitting on steps, staring out into the heavy rain, his arms folded on his knees- waiting for me. I stroked his hair passing by him and up the steps, bidding him to come. In another dream, Nathan and I were laying side by side on a bed of green grass in an open field. We were staring up at the clear blue sky when suddenly a giant hand came out from the clouds, cut open our chests, removed our hearts and stitched in new ones. I woke up thinking, ’What a crazy dream, but this is a good sign; we won’t have to wait ten years.’ He’ll be coming for me soon. But he never did.

A second and third year went by- impatience and bitterness settled in. ‘Will it really happen?’ I thought, ‘will I ever see him again?’ I began losing hope, praying fervently for him, hoping he was doing better than me. At another visit to New Jersey I saw his sister and we spoke of him. She said he had moved away and from time to time would call her and share his dreams. She said he too would think of me and dream with me often. After telling her some of my dreams, especially, where I saw him staring out into the rain; in astonishment, she said, “That’s not possible; Nathan had that exact dream two weeks ago.” I remembered then it had been two weeks since mine. ‘This must be a good sign’ I thought. But the signs and years came and went and still- no sight of him.

In August 1999, I moved to New York City, hours away from both my families. I wanted to be left alone and find myself along the way; so I rarely visited either family. I climbed corporate ladders, traveled different countries, joined poetry and choir groups in church, went out with good friends. Still the void of him haunted my mind. And from time to time, I’d search for his face amongst endless crowds. I refused to admit that I still missed him after all this time. I engulfed myself in work masking the loneliness I felt. I entertained myself in empty relationships that never measured up to him. In the depths of my heart, I knew he was the only one for me. In March 2005, I was diagnosed with severe depression and anxiety. The city had chewed me up and spit me out. Thoughts of Nathan crossed my mind. Somehow, I was still hanging onto his love. At times, I thought back to his last words to me- I felt we were cursed by them. I felt I would never truly be happy in life, no matter where I lived.

My brother and his wife opened their home in New Jersey to me. Once again I moved out of state and close to family. I considered myself a gypsy with the many times I had moved. I didn’t know my heart was searching for Home. I was broken, depressed and after all I had done, my life was empty. My prayers had grown dim. I stayed with my brother, his wife and four children for one year. They cared for me as if I was a child. When I began feeling better and more optimistic on life, my brother announced he and his family were moving away to Ohio. They asked me to join them, but I refused. I felt a sense of panic. But one day, stopping at a red-light, I asked God for direction. “Lord, where do I go from here?” I asked, “I have no family of my own, no one to care for me, I’m drawn in many directions. Lord, what do you want me to do?” I heard a still, small voice, “Be still and know that I am God!” For the first time in a long time, I felt as if God was preparing a huge surprise for me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I remained there in that part of New Jersey until I was led up north again where my mother used to live. Years before, she had moved back to her homeland, Puerto Rico.

One December day, in 2006, I took a wrong turn and was led to a restaurant where Nathan’s younger brother worked many years ago. I stopped in for a bite to eat and to ask for directions. When I looked up from the menu, there he was. Nathan’s brother, all grown up, with a stunned look on his face. “What are you doing here?” he hugged me, “I thought you were living in New York?” “And I thought you weren’t working here anymore!” I answered sarcastically. I explained to him that I had been in New Jersey a while- living a little more to the south. “I’m now trying to rent an apartment up this way, but it’s been a while since I’ve been here,” I laughed, “I got lost or rather, took a wrong turn searching for it and somehow ended up on this road.” “Funny,” he said, “my brother, Nathan, just moved back in town as well.” My heart skipped a beat. “He’s had it pretty rough these past years, I’m sure he’d be happy to see you again,” he told me. “You think?” I asked, “After all this time?” “What about his girlfriend or wife?” I asked him trying to get more details of his life. He smiled, shaking his head, and told me Nathan lived around the corner from the library. The library? The same library I frequently sat in almost every day only a few steps away from his house. My stomach was in knots. After our short conversation, everything fell into place. It couldn’t be! It was then; I remembered it was 2006- Ten years! Ten long years, after Nathan spoke those words to me, “… ten years from now; we might just find each other one last time.”

A few days later, I worked up the courage to go see him. I knocked on the door and his voice cut through me like a knife, “Come in.” Many times I had dreamed of this day and wondered if I ever saw him, would the love still be there or, had I, all these years, hung onto an imaginary love. The house was filled with his family who were visiting. His mother, sister, nephews and nieces were all there. I felt a little out of place, wondering what they were thinking. They all welcomed me with smiles and hugs. They asked me tons of questions- where I had been; what had I done with my life. Before I got around to him, I felt his eyes heavy on me, piercing me with his love. I walked over to him, stared into his green eyes and squeezed him tightly. With a broken voice and tears in my eyes, I whispered, “It’s been ten years, my love, the curse is broken.” He searched my eyes; I could feel him shaking. He smiled at me with love and said, “It’s good to find you again. I searched for you, but I was told you moved. After all these years, I never stopped loving you.”

I was home; he was always my home. He was my best friend and my soulmate. He was created for me and I was created for him.

It’s been close to three years from that December day. Our love has only grown stronger. We, now, both understand that losing and finding each other again was all part of God’s great design for our lives. We accept the fact that only a Higher Power could keep our hearts yearning for each other for more than a decade. Today we hold the same friendship with a loving God that cared enough to knit our hearts together, forever.


Our Love Story
copyright © 2009 Ellie Kings
Art by Jacqueline Gerritsen

A Decade in Love- Pt I

It was May 1993; I was twenty-one years old when I met him again. He was a year older than me. He had piercing green eyes, golden skin and a charm that attracted almost every girl that crossed paths with him. It was a warm sunny day, with the laughter of children playing in the background, the smell of barbeque in the air and the voices of families enjoying themselves on the first day of summer. I was sitting on my aunt’s porch, one of many in a row of townhouses. I wore a soft pink summer dress with gray and white flowers. I enjoyed a glass of iced tea after a few games of Frisbee with the kids. I was joyful to spend time with my mother and her large family.

As I sat there, I watched the kids continue to play and a few teenagers shooting baskets in a beat-up court. I noticed someone sitting across the street on the steps of one of the townhouses. He looked very familiar. He seemed to be watching the same basketball game I watched. Before I knew it, he was walking towards me with my younger cousin at his side. My cousin had a little crush on him and excitedly introduced us not realizing we already knew each other. I smiled, shaking my iced tea, “I remember you; do you remember me?” “Yes, of course I remember!” he said, “We played together when we were kids.” Our mothers were good friends and my brother and I would often play games of hide and seek with Nathan and his siblings. Feeling like a third wheel, my cousin excused herself.

We spoke of years past, attending the same schools, sharing the same teachers, and once in a while walking with the same crowds- never really exchanging words, only small glances. “Why haven’t I seen you around lately?” he asked. I explained I moved away a few years back to live in upstate New York with my father and his family. I mentioned I was the product of an ugly divorce. Trying not to sound too morbid, “The good thing about it is that I have two homes; my mother in New Jersey and my father in New York, just four hours away.” In truth I hated it. I preferred living with my mother but I never seemed to find peace in her home. There was too much turmoil. He had a sympathetic look on his face and asked how long would I be staying. “A month at the most,” I said. He smiled at me, “Good, we have time to catch up.”

That day we watched the sun go down, all the while smiling at each other, laughing about absolutely nothing, and sharing the same sparkle in our eyes. We spent the next few weeks meeting on that porch speaking of the silly things we used to do when we were younger and how we’ve missed seeing each other over these past few years. On a few occasions we had dinner together, went to the billiards or the theaters. We exchanged information so that we could stay in touch.

On my last day there, I waited nervously by the window for him. He said he would try to stop by and say his goodbyes. I was hoping we could see each other one last time before I went home. I loaded the car, a tear in my eye and heavy sigh at the thought of not seeing him before I left. As I closed the trunk of the car, I saw him running with a box in his hand. “I thought I had missed you!” he said taking long breaths. I laughed and hugged him tight. “I thought you wouldn’t come.” “I had to get you something before you left, I searched for just the right thing; I hope you like it” he said, giving me the box. Inside was a white dress embroidered in colorful flowers two sizes bigger than what I wore. I smiled and politely said he shouldn’t have gone through the trouble. I never told him the dress was too big for me. I kept the dress and even wore it from time to time just to remind me of him.

On the drive back to New York, I felt as if I was leaving something behind. As days passed, my heart yearned to hear his soft voice and stare at those dreamy green eyes. On my first week home, I received a letter from him. After that, we spoke on the phone almost every day and wrote love letters to each other for months. Six months later, I spent Thanksgiving weekend at my mother’s house. I was ecstatic because I knew I would see him again. When I got there I dropped my suitcase home and hurried off to his house. His grandmother was in the kitchen cooking one of her specialty Spanish meals and was excited to see me. “Does he know you’re coming?” I shook my head, “It’s a surprise!” She sent one of his brothers for him, but very sternly said not to tell Nathan I was waiting.

When Nathan walked in he asked his grandmother what was going on- his brother had said it was something important. I sneaked out from behind the door. He jumped up yelling with joy and squeezing me so tight cracking every backbone I had. We spent that weekend taking long walks, holding hands, realizing that not only had we fallen in love with each other through love letters, but that we had grown to be the best of friends. “I never dreamed ‘love at first sight’ existed,” he said, “but I must admit, I fell in love with you the minute I saw you playing with children that summer day!” He told me he used to watch over me in elementary school making sure the bullies would stay away. He said he had always felt the urge to keep me safe. I never knew any of that. Whenever he spoke to me, I felt at peace and such a comfort that made all my worries go away. With him, I felt special. His eyes were for me and only me.

Nathan had a big heart open to new ideas and new beliefs. I decided to introduce him to God explaining the friendship I held with Him and spoke of things he had vaguely heard. He seemed very interested in finding the love of God I found four years before. He asked me many questions. After a wonderful weekend there, it was time to leave once more. We continued writing love letters to each other and sharing phone calls another two months.

In February 1994, I received a terrible phone call from him. “My grandmother has passed on.” His grandmother battled cervical cancer most of her late years in life. Nathan was like a son to her. She raised him for many years when his mother wasn’t able to care for him, yet didn’t live too far away. He was very close to his grandmother, so much so, that when she died, he became withdrawn from everything and everyone including me. He called me to say that we couldn’t see each other any longer and that he didn’t want to continue writing letters. I was devastated, but I understood that he wasn’t himself. I could hear it in his voice: the anger, sadness, and sense of loss. My heart went out to him after hearing him express himself with few words and a sad voice. “If you ever change your mind, I will be waiting,” I said, “I’ll be here whenever you need someone to listen.”

He called me twice in two months. I could sense he was depressed and nothing was making him happy. ‘If I lived closer to him I could help him through his grief,’ I often thought. After another month and no calls from him, I decided to move back to New Jersey just to be near him. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I took a leap of faith.

As I parked the car near his house, he was sitting on the steps with a sullen face, his arms folded on his knees. It was then that I realized I had made the right choice in moving back. When he saw me, he lifted his head with relief in his eyes and held me in his arms for a long time. “I am so glad you’re here,” he managed to muffle through a broken voice.

After a few months, he seemed happier and moved on past the pain. We spent a little over a year loving each other intensely, but in September 1995 we decided to part ways. Unfortunately, love wasn’t enough. We were young and naïve and our differences in beliefs were getting in the way of our love. Although he understood some of it, he never fully accepted my faith, and that caused great friction between us. Resisting, I went back upstate to New York.


Our Love Story
copyright © 2009 Ellie Kings
Art by Megan Aroon-Duncanson

Like a Winter Tree

He is a winter tree, standing on top of a hill… bare naked
His long, dark branches overlook the ocean’s waves, crashing against rocks
His trunk is like a tower, erecting from the center of an old city
Alone… he stands tall

He holds secrets carved in him for decades
The wind grabs hold of him, choking his breath of life
In the midst of a storm, he sways left and right
Yet he is not moved

I’d like to be him, even during winter
With the heavy snow cascading off his branches
I’d like to be him, waking to the morning of a new day
With the sun’s rays beating on his bark

I’d like to be him when the sweat of a long day
Thirsts his wood and he screams for rain
I’d like to be him as the bright moon rises over him
Overshadowing his aged body

Day after day, year after year… He remains standing
During all the seasons of his life, he grows strong and proud
And here I sit… wishing I were that tree, standing on top of that hill
... Bare naked


Copyright © 2002 by Ellie Kings