You Thought You Would Never See That Look Again
Consider yourself lucky if you ever get a chance to see them give you the look. It’s going to stay with you forever and whether or not you two stay together, it’s a look you’ll never forget.
Describing the look is difficult, like describing a view only we saw. When we’re describing it to others, we’re not really talking about what we saw so much as what we felt when we saw it. To call it beautiful is to do the look a disservice. It was more than beautiful, it was….well, let’s not even bother trying to describe it, because again, it isn’t possible to do so.
But what it’s like is p0rn, that is to say, you know the look when you see the look. You never seek it out, you’re never staring at the person you love in search of it. When you see it, it will be by accident. They won’t mean to show it to you, they won’t even mean to give it to you because it’s not a face they are trying to make. The mechanics to give the look come from these feelings we have within us. Those feelings get so overwhelming, they eventually surface, all over our face, and that’s when the look reveals itself.
The moment the look is given can happen at the most random time, and that moment will never repeat itself, but if you’re lucky, you will be able to see the look again.
What will happen is, you will be sitting at the bar one night with the person you love. You two are there to be social with other friends. Somehow, the crowd of people finds a way to separate you two, and both of you are on opposite sides of the bar. They’re talking to people, you’re talking to people. Everyone is talking to everyone else. At some point, you look across the bar at this person you love and there it is, the look. It’s all of three seconds, but you permanently etch the look in your memory because you know you will never see that look again.
Years later, you and this other person are no longer together, but you two brought a child in the world. That child will be raised primarily by you, and all your friends and family will say the child looks just like you. You will smile and politely agree, but deep inside you know you see a stronger resemblance to your past love. You see the child grow and everyday the child looks more like the person who you haven’t seen in close to 14 years.
Eventually, the child starts to look more like an adult, and at no point is this more true than on the child’s prom night. The child took some pictures that evening, and the next day, the child shows the pictures to you. The child looks good, you’re proud, but the last picture the child shows you, makes you grab it out of their hands. In the picture, your child is sitting at a dinner table, staring at the camera, with a smile on their face. You hold the picture with both your hands. You sit down at the edge of your bed and you take a deep breath and then you cry, uncontrollably.
The child asks why you’re crying, rubbing your back, concerned something has gone wrong. You tell the child nothing is wrong, everything is okay. You love all the pictures, but it’s this picture, the one you’re holding that reminds you of a night you were out with the child’s other parent, long before the child was born.
You two were there to be social with other friends. Somehow, the crowd of people found a way to separate you two, and both of you ended up on opposite sides of the bar. They were talking to people, you were talking to people. Everyone was talking to everyone else. At some point, you looked across the bar at this person you loved and there it was, the look. It was all of three seconds, but you permanently etched the look in your memory because you thought you would never see that look again until you saw this picture.