It never burned out

Well, hello there. My, it's been a long time.

Sorry I've been away for a week or so. Trying to hold down an editor's job, write for a living, keep up two blogs and sqeeze in a social life and writing fiction doesn't leave time for much else. Sometimes the last thing you want to do after the day ends is come home and write.

But if you have a few minutes, pull up a chair and let me tell you a story.

It's about a guy who loved a woman once.Well, love is too strong a word.

Let's say he thought a lot of her. Watched her, determined she was a pretty nice person, developed a strong affection for the dear gal.

Course this was a few years ago, when the world was less complicated and such things seemed more dramatic than they really are. But try telling that to a 15 year old kid.

The kid grew up. Forgot about the girl. Moved on, like we all do, loved other girls and saw a little piece of the world.

Out of the blue she's there again. He remembers. It catches him off guard, but he's realistic. He is amused, though. Remembers a lot of crazy stuff he used to do. Laughs about it.

But a curious thing happens. The feeling doesn't wear off. It doesn't flame into a fire. Nah, more like a little puff of smoke.

Again he finds himself observing her from afar. Age and maturity gives him a different perspective.

"But those eyes haven't changed," he tells himself.

He tries to make sense of it during the wee hours, when life is still and lends itself to reflection. He marvels how the world works, that things long dormant are real again. Or at least still bouncing around inside his head..

He tells himself it's just something from long ago that never quite died. Like baseball and The Beatles, something from childhood he's still fond of.

He pretends, but the feeling won't go away. .

And the sad part? Not a thing in the world to do about it.

Except to remember. And deal with the regret.