I met her a couple of years ago. From the moment I saw her
walking up the stairs, I could not take my eyes off her. I
was enchanted by those deep, all-knowing cyan eyes like a
moth by the brightness of light. Age and maturity reflected
from the thin lines near her eyes and mouth. She was, and
forever will be, 9 years older than me. I did not care. In
fact, it just made her more beautiful.

It was Christmas evening, and I was already 3 months away
from home, and who knows how long away from a gentle hand.
My own hands craved for the joy of a stroke. My arms and
chest were deeply longing for a hug, that basic instinct we
are born with. My lips had forgotten the pressing of
others... and there she was.

So charming and magnificent, so friendly and smiling -
indeed, one of the best smiles I have ever seen - she was
there and no one else around mattered. For only several
hours, I could make them disappear - the differences of age,
culture, language...; the troubles and worries of the next
day; everything - make every other thing so remote, so
unimportant.

We had a few drinks and a flowing conversation, and as time
flew by, my lust for her touch kept growing more and more. I
never dance - the joy of music does not spread down from my
head - but my awe of her made me take her hand, and for so
long we just held each other, not knowing how to dance, but
amusing ourselves by trying. It gave me the chance to stare
at her eyes, to admire the shape of that marvelous famine
body, realizing that this was God's intention when he
thought
of the woman.

As the clock counted the minutes passing by, another clock
was counting backwards, for our ways had to part in the
early morning. On the way back to the room, I held her hand
and gradually hugged her. My God, I kissed her! There were
other people present in the room, and I kissed her as if
they were not there. For me, they weren't.

It was a cold night, and the breath steamed even inside the
room. I foolishly, childishly - desperately - suggested that
we share the bed... and she agreed! I did not care if
nothing else would happen. Just holding her, clutching our
warm bodies together, was enough for me. She was a pill of
comfort for a lonely, soar heart; a dose of hope for my
desperate soul. For that short time, she was there for me.

I did not manage to sleep, and those were very short 2
hours. I got up the moment her alarm woke her up. She packed
all of her things and stood by the stairs. She had to go, I
knew that. I kissed her gently and gave a final gaze into
her eyes. Then I watched her walking down the stairs and
vanishing. It was goodbye forever, and I had no problem with
it. She was only a beautiful stranger, a pill...

But goodbye wasn't forever.

In fact, it was only 2 months later that I saw her again.
Modern communications had made it possible for us to meet
again, almost at the end of both our journeys. Her choice
of
words was undoubtable. She even wanted to extend her voyage
and suggested that I join her. I could not extend mine, but
I knew it is for the best. I had to remember: she was just a
pill.

But as our roads were about to cross again, I was tempted to
look at her pictures. A smile of acknowledgement appeared
when I looked at those eyes: for a couple of days, I would
be a man who has everything. Just for a couple of days.

I knew we would not be alone, but it did not matter - we
would find the time. I imagined myself walking on a beach at
sunset, with her hand deep in mine; lying on the sand, one
hand behind her neck and another gently studying her face,
her divine body, every detail... So much I craved for
another taste of her...

My plane was delayed, and when I finally found a place for
the night, I had only a few hours of anticipation left. I
could not sleep. My body and mind were restless, practicing
for the moment when my eyes meet hers...

However, life is unexpected. I was not prepared for the
following: a simple hug. She did not even look into my eyes,
nor did she hold my hand. She kept her distance from me in a
group of people and barely spoke to me. It took me some time
to realize it - she was avoiding me!

She was not even friendly, merely polite. She would not take
a thing I offered her, not even water from my bottle. Every
scarce accidental touch made her retreat and mutter an
apology, while I was longing for more... She was indifferent
to me, ignoring my glance. Speaking in her language, an
utter opposite to the first time we met, just amplified my
feeling of insignificance.

Inevitably, my behavior was not as before: I was silent,
distant,
hesitative, passive; I could not look into her eyes; my
sense of humor had vanished, rational thinking had left my
mind and every part of me sank into deep depression. I was
paralyzed.

I dared not to confront her, nor did I try to mention in her
ears
those magical hours, back in December. Nothing made sense to
me: what has happened? Why would she act like this? For
hours I sat silently, memorizing every minute in Christmas.
Certainly she had not forgotten about what happened. Was I
drunk enough for her to be afraid of my
reaction? Was she angry with herself for temporarily
crossing the barrier of age? Did she see right through me
and did not want to hurt a fragile, lonely man? Or maybe her
heart or mind were set on another man now? Maybe it was
everything together... Still, it was beyond my
comprehension: why did she want to see me again?

I guess I will never know...

After a week, I started coming back to my senses. I was
furious with myself for my behavior during that week. I
wanted to be myself once more. I decided to start all over
again, as if I had just met her a couple of days before. It
worked. We could talk naturally and I was able to think in
her presence. Even my sense of humor was partially back.
Only one thing stayed the same: I could not take my eyes off
her...

I kept probing every once in a while, but she was always in
control, always glamorous, perfect, impenetrable. After 3
more days, we said goodbye on a boat. I kissed her softly on
the cheek and hugged her tight, as if saying everything I
had to say through that hug. I gave a few more glances, and
then turned my back forever. It was over.

I know that it wasn't love. I knew that all along. It was
something else, something ancient and mysterious, I know
that now. We could never be together, for she was just a
dream, a fantasy. She was a messenger of the Goddess Venus,
Aphrodite, Hathor, whatever you name her, maybe even the
Goddess herself. She is the Muse, the mother of
poetry; the Siren, the Nymph, same and different for every
man...

Have You ever met your fantasy, your nymph? I know I did.
And like every other man, I could not resist her spell. She
had bright eyes, bright hair, a tanned skin, a divine
body... and she was 9 years older than me. She even had some
small things, minor details which made her look imperfect,
human! Maybe this is what tricked me and made me fall for
her charm...

Dreams never die, they just change. I guess that if I ever
meet her again, I would be able to look back as a different
man and laugh. But forever will I be grateful for that key
moment in my life, when I met my nymph.
She was not singing in the heart of the ocean.
She was not bathing in a fountain.
She was walking up the stairs.