And now for something completely different; some light fiction:
Slowly and with much deliberation he approached, taking care to avoid her eyes and the fierce and beautiful and terrifying intensity that he knew must still burn there even after so many years. She possessed that kind of penetrating gaze which can pierce right through you and with a glance expose you to the very core, and if he was sure of anything it was that time had done nothing to bolster his ability to withstand such a thing, that it must be avoided at all costs.
But also he remembered, with more than a touch of fondness, those long-lost gossamer days where she would dare him to meet her eyes with his and wait patiently as he tried, awkwardly and unsuccessfully, to rise to the task and accept that which was being freely offered. With such a staggering clarity did he remember those days of long ago that it was as if he could reach out and touch them if he so dared. Always would he try to muster the courage and the confidence to hold her gaze, to shatter the sudden paralysis which seemed to take hold of him whenever he felt the presence of her eyes upon him, and to do whatever it was that she expected him to do (though he was never sure exactly what that might be). And always would he fail. And always would he long for his next opportunity to try and to fail.
She was close now, and had undoubtedly noticed his approach.
“Hello”, he said meekly, giving an awkward kind of half-wave as he did so.
Instantly her gaze was on him, and involuntarily he found himself bracing as if in anticipation of a mighty blow, a force of old habits long dormant but not forgotten. But this time there was no challenge, no request, no invitation framed within her bright eyes. If anything she seemed uncomfortable and awkward, mildly unsettled by his presence. And he noted this with a quiet disappointment, being careful to keep his outward demeanor unchanged. What else could he have expected, he mused inwardly, after all that had passed between then and now. What else could there be, after his failures of inaction, his failures of ineffectual action, and his failures of inappropriate action? He held her gaze, and this time found no terror there, just quiet sorrow and a dreadful still emptiness where once something vital and important had lived.
“Hi, long time no see”, she replied with an air of cordiality, stopping just short of friendliness.
And, he reflected, now at last I see what it was that so scared me all those years ago, and understand why that fear will never return to my life. In her eyes, in that beautiful and terrible gaze of hers, had lived the future. A future that could be his had he dared to just reach out and touch it. But also a future that branched out upon itself like some crazed fractal, expanding outwards through the realm of possibility and past the foreseeable horizon. A future so immeasurably vast and so full of possibility that he could not countenance the idea of grasping for it, of trying to contain it all in his feeble palm.
He had not understood that it’s not necessary or beneficial to hold the entire thing in your hand at once, that it’s entirely sufficient to grasp just a single thread and be willing to follow it to wherever it leads. The unknown had scared him then, the idea of not being able to know or to completely control what the future might hold. And he had worked hard to break himself of this childish fear, and he had done so, and in the process learned that only in the unknown can one chance upon the majestic or the sublime. Only by exploring the intricacies of the pattern firsthand does one come to understand it and gain access to those unique shared experiences that are so priceless and rare.
But that pattern from his past, that future branching out into infinite possibility that he remembered with such unshakeable clarity, was dead now. Both of them had moved on and grown up, separated at most times by thousands of miles. They had their own lives, their own places that they were accustomed to, their own independent notions of home. Never again would he or could he see the same mystifying and terrifying realm of possibilities within her eyes, or be tested with a challenge or an open invitation to come plumb its depths. All that existed there now was a simple pattern; mundane conversation, awkwardness begetting awkwardness, a few trivial branches here and there, each punctuated by a scheduled departure a few days hence. He had missed his chance, would have no more opportunity to try again, to fail again.
Too late it was when he had finally recognized himself as the explorer that he was. Too late to go back as he longed to do, and explore that myriad future the mere glance of which had so paralyzed him in his youth. That door was closed to him forever now. So he took solace in the same way that anyone who has ever touched upon something so precious and rare that it occurs once in a lifetime and then allowed it through sheer carelessness to slip through their fingers does.
“What did I know back then,” he asked himself quietly, as he slowly and somewhat dazedly wandered past the greeting area and on to the reception area where more acquaintances from years past remained.
The night passed uneventfully, and not another word passed between the two of them. A few days later, he returned home.