“You are married now?” He was shocked to hear it.

“Yes.” She nodded, smiled. “Just over three months.”

Three months? If only he’d… but it was too late.

“I never heard.” He said. “So much happens this way and we never hear. Congratulations. I mean, my best wishes. I wish you, and the lucky man, a happy married life.” He tried to mean it.

“Thank you.” She widened her smile. “You, anyone in your life now?”

“Uh, no. No one.” He’d been coming back to get her back in his life. “Work pressure. Busy schedule. Hardly any time at all.”

“It is for you to make the time. You cannot spend your life alone. Career success and financial security cannot take the place of companionship.”

He knew that. He’d realised that and he’d decided to come back for her. Only he’d been too late. “I guess I’ll have to. One is, after all, not getting any younger.” He offered a tentative smile. “It will, of course, be tougher now with all the good girls gone.”

“There is someone out there for you. You just have to open your eyes and see.”

“Hmm, that I have to do.”

“I’m glad to see you again. I hope next time you’ll have the chance of meeting my husband, and maybe you’ll have a woman by your side then too.” She let out a chuckle.


“Take care of you.”

“You too.”

She withdrew into the house and he strode back to his car.

As he drove home, his heart roiled with regret. He’d thought she’d always be there. He hadn’t wanted to commit. Now, when he was ready to, she was gone. He had lost her forever.

***-*** ***-*** ***-***

Just a small illustration of how wistful we get sometimes when we have lost that something we initially never valued enough.

Sometimes, it’s not that we didn’t value this person, it’s just that we have the belief that they’ll always be there. They’re not going anywhere. We even feel like we own them.

But life’s not like that, is it? No one belongs to anyone else. We are our own masters and mistresses. Only God, and that is if we permit, can lay a claim of ownership on us.

Has anyone been here?

Is anyone going through those wistful moments of what-could-have-been?