17/08/2024
IT WASN’T LOVE BUT HOPE - PART 3
Tuesday arrived quicker than I anticipated, bringing with it an undercurrent of something more than just excitement—something I couldn’t quite name. As I made my way to the courtyard, I spotted Becky in our usual spot, her face lighting up with that warm, familiar smile. These weekly meetups had become a cherished part of my routine, a beacon of hope in the midst of everything else.
This time, our conversation delved deeper. We talked about our experiences with loneliness—not as something to avoid, but as a part of who we are. Becky opened up about how she’d often felt like an outsider, even in the busiest of places, surrounded by people but still alone. It was a feeling I knew all too well, and it was strangely comforting to find someone who understood.
As we talked, it hit me how rare it was to connect with someone on this level. In a world that constantly tells us to be connected, to be social, it’s easy to forget that true connection isn’t about how many people you know, but about the depth of understanding you share with just a few. Becky had started as a stranger, but she was quickly becoming someone who got me in a way that few others did.
She shared how she used to see her loneliness as a flaw, something to fix. But over time, she’d come to view it differently—not as a weakness, but as a space where she could learn, reflect, and grow. Her perspective was refreshing, and it made me reconsider my own relationship with solitude. Maybe loneliness wasn’t something to be feared after all, but something that could lead us to the connections we need the most.
As we said our goodbyes that evening, the sky fading into night, I felt something shift inside me. It wasn’t love, but it was something close—hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, we weren’t as alone as we thought. That maybe the people who truly understand us are out there, waiting to be found, just as Becky and I had found each other.
Walking away, I realized that this friendship was more than just a happy coincidence. It was a reminder that in the quiet spaces of our lives, where loneliness might try to creep in, there is also room for hope. And maybe, in those moments, what we’re really waiting for isn’t love, but the hope that comes from knowing we’re not alone.
Next Tuesday wasn’t just another meeting on my calendar—it was a promise of something deeper, something worth believing in.
