He was a goofy guy with a too-loud laugh and truly bad hair. But I liked him. We had some great conversations. We weren’t close, but whenever I hung out with him and his roommate, I knew I’d have a good time.
Then I got a phone call late at night. My dad had had a heart attack. I needed to fly home.
I was frightened. Would my Dad be OK? My Mom had sounded hysterical. They were going to be doing surgery on my father. I later found out that he’d lost 90% of his heart.
I booked my flight.
“Do you need a ride to the airport,” my goofy guy friend asked.
“I can manage,” I said.
“Come on,” he said. “Let me do this for you.”
He took me to the airport. He listened when I needed to talk. He was quiet when I needed silence. He made me laugh and he let me cry.
During the hour I spent with him in the car, I fell a little in love with him.
When he dropped me off, he gave me a hug. I didn’t know how to express what was in my heart. I said “thank you”, but the words were inadequate.
It’s been over 20 years since he did that for me. We lost touch long ago. I don’t remember his name, unfortunately. I barely remember his face. I do remember the sound of his deep laugh. I will never forget what he did for me, though, and how he made me feel.
Forever he will have a place in my heart, because of how he made me feel.
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Previously published on medium
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Photo credit: by bantersnaps on Unsplash