Reading Between the Lines
...written on 2001-01-11, @ 00:19:59
Tales of Kim's Life in Japan
Wed January 10, 2001
Reading Between the Lines
I have been following a story. An online story. Why you could even call it a "love story". It is the story of two diarists who have fallen in love. One (the girl) lives in San Francisco, USA and the other (the boy) lives in Glasgow, Scotland.
How they found each other, I don't know. I've just recently started following their story. Perhaps they themselves don't even remember. How do you know when something that happens one day in your life will in the future become a major part of it? How do you know to take the camera on your first date so you can take pictures that will later be put in your wedding album? Or save the ticket stub for your scrap book, or circle the date on a calendar?
Anyway, the boy and the girl read each other's diary, and soon their own entries reflected the growing influence and importance that they each had in the other's life. They chronicled that they wrote about and to each other. They made trans-atlantic phone calls. Then they announced that they were in love and making plans to meet. Finally, one day, they did meet. She flew to Scotland and he was at the airport to whisk her away to experience him, his family, friends and the country.
Of course, all of us voyeurs were waiting anxiously for the follow-up reports of their meeting, and we weren't disappointed. The next entries reflected the angst of loving but being 7,000 miles away from the object of their affections. They met again over Christmas and again, I, uh, we waited for the reports of their encounters.
Mmm, I like love stories like that. That's a romantic for you. Yep, it is in my nature. I don't regret being a romantic either, even though it has led me down some rocky paths, but hey, I'm lucky, because I'm also an optimist! A romantic optimist. An optimistic romantic. Whichever. I'm a very happy person.
I was born that way you see. It's in my genes. It's in every school photograph, especially the one from Kindergarten. I'm four years old and I'm in Kaiserslatern, West Germany (as it was then). My red and white pin striped blouse looks crisp with starch, Little Bo Peep can be seen on the wall over my shoulder, my waist- long hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail and my little eyes are opposing crescents to the big smile beneath them. The German kindergarten nuns even told my mother I was a happy child. They said I couldn't understand a word that they said, but I sure was happy about it!
In jr high school I skipped. No, not class, I literally skipped when I walked. I bounded from the heel of one foot to the ball of that same foot and so on. I think you have to be very happy to walk that way.
Then the hormones hit, and college, Peace Corps, international travel, marriage, divorce, illness, career changes, you know, the REAL WORLD stuff, and the "this ain't kindergarten anymore, Kim" things appeared in my life. Some rough and wonderful things happened to me and I dealt with them as I had to. Today, I'm happy to report that I am still a happy person!
Now the romantic part of me hopes that one day "he" will read my diary. I don't know who this "he" is, but he will have stumbled on it by chance maybe and read a few pages, but he's at work, so he has to stop until he gets home. At home he'll get all comfy and fix himself a cup of hot chocolate because it's cold out where he is and he's a big fan of hot chocolate. He'll be doing some research on his laptop and remember my diary. He'll find the link. He'll read some more. He'll smile at what he reads. He'll think I am clever, witty, spoiled, selfish, adventurous, and bad at punctuation. He'll get tired and have to go to sleep, but will bookmark my site.
In the morning, he'll have a few more entries for breakfast. He's got some time today, so he'll even sign my guestbook, saying something like, "Hey, you're a happy kook and I'll be back. love, HE".
Little by little he'll read me. Then one day he will write to me, and I to him, and we will start our own diary love story.
See, I told you I'm an optimist!
Futon time!