I am a hopeless romantic, a prisoner of love since my teenage years. Back then, I would develop feelings for any girl who simply spoke to me at school. The problem was, no one reciprocated those feelings. It wasn’t about sex for me; I just longed for someone to genuinely like me.
But everything changed on the morning of December 24, 1986. I had no inkling of what was about to happen. Excited for the annual highlight of the year, the Christmas Eve party, I went to work. The festivities began before lunch and later moved to a bar at the Wentworth Hotel in Sydney. Spirits were high in the early afternoon.
I found myself captivated by one of my colleagues, Alison. Her vibrant red hair was utterly mesmerizing. The group decided to continue the celebration at a pub at Circular Quay. As we departed, I delivered a line that would have made Patrick Swayze proud: “Come with me and I’ll show you a good time.” And later that night, against a cigarette machine at the Orient Hotel, we shared our first kiss.
Little did I know, the next day Alison informed her family that she had met the person she would marry.
However, fulfilling that declaration wasn’t easy for her. While I had always yearned for love, I felt like a bruised apple that had fallen to the ground one too many times. I couldn’t fathom that anyone would find value in me. My self-esteem had unknowingly constructed an emotional barrier that prevented anyone from entering.
During those winter mornings, as I rose at 6:45 am, had breakfast, and strolled down the alleyway past the ill-tempered dog, my destination was Arncliffe train station. Alison lived in the same suburb as her parents, and moving closer to her felt like the right decision. We became flatmates, deepening our connection.
Seeing Alison at the train station each day was the highlight of my mornings. Being with her was an exercise in mindfulness, where we luxuriated in each other’s company and disregarded the outside world.
One particular morning, as I descended the stairs to the platform, there she stood, adorned in an off-white jacket, matching scarf, business skirt, and Daisy Duck shoes. I can still picture her, smiling in that moment whenever I close my eyes. It was a beauty that no camera could ever capture, but its memory will remain etched in my mind forever.
That day marked the turning point. It was more than just her appearance; it was the feeling of significance, of being understood and cherished. When I reflect on that morning, it fills my soul with lightness, hope, and gratitude for young love.
The train station was where the magic began, but it didn’t end there. There were countless other moments – ferry trips to Manly, weekends away from Sydney, and our first vacation to the Cook Islands. I will never forget how stunning she looked as she walked down the aisle on January 6, 1990, and how my understanding of love deepened with the birth of each of our three children.
Over the span of 36 years, our love has forged countless soul connections. With Alison, I consider myself truly blessed.
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