During college I noticed that there were fewer and fewer people still by themselves. Everyone was pairing up. Some of the girls in my class were wearing engagement rings. They were proud of their rings and would show them to everyone around them. One day I went to a jewelry store at the mall and looked at rings. I picked out a nice one for you. It was gold, with a small diamond in a silver setting. I didn' t know what your ring size was, so I bought one that fit my smallest finger. I figured we could get it fixed later. I carried that ring with me all the time. I wanted to be able to give it to you as soon as we were together.
After that day I thought about your hands a lot. I pictured myself holding them and looking at the tiny wrinkles in the palms. I tried to imagine how small your hands might be. How fragile they might be. In my dreams you would touch my face with your tiny fingers. The fingertips would touch my lips and I would kiss them.
I worked hard in college. I studied constantly because I wanted to get a good job when I graduated. I didn' t want our lives to suffer because I couldn' t provide for us. After college I got a well-paying job with an insurance company. After saving for two years I put a down payment on a house. A nice two-bedroom house. It had a large kitchen and a great bedroom for the two of us. I just knew you would love it. When I moved into the house, I tried not to buy too much furniture. I didn' t want to pick anything you wouldn' t like later. Just the basics .
Sometimes I would sit on the threshold of the front door. I would stare down the street and watch every car that passed by. One day you might be in one of those cars. I wanted that to happen so much.
The bed was too big for just one person. I couldn' t make myself stretch out or sleep in the middle. I stayed on my side and pretended that you were with me. Some nights I could almost hear you breathing. I would roll on my side and want to say your name, but I didn' t know what it was. I would just call you "Love."
"Love?" You would smile at me.
"Are you happy with me? Are you glad you waited for me?"
You wouldn' t answer. You' d just reach over and touch my lips and feel my face. I could feel your hands on my face. You could feel my tears.
"I love you so much."
The years went by. I tried to imagine what you were doing. I knew you were out there. I knew the person who' s meant for me must be out there somewhere. It would just be a matter of waiting. I knew I could wait forever for you if I had to. I loved you.
When my mom died I was left to handle all the arrangements myself. It had just been her and I, and we' d grown apart over the last twenty some-odd years. One Christmas she asked me when I was going to bring home a girl. I couldn' t say anything to answer that. I couldn' t even look her in the eyes the rest of the night. I wanted badly for you to meet her. She would be so proud of me. So proud that her son had such a wonderful woman. It would be perfect.
But as I watched her being lowered into the grave, I didn' t have anyone standing with me. I didn' t have anyone to show my mom. I was alone.
That night I cried. I cried because I didn' t have you with me to hold me and tell me everything was alright. I didn' t have a hand to hold or lips to kiss. Nothing. I' d never had that and perhaps never would.
Each morning I looked at myself in the mirror. The wrinkles around my eyes were getting deeper. My hair had thinned and receded. I hoped you would love me. I hoped you could still look at my face and smile.
"I want to see you smile," the nurse says.
I can' t. Everything in me hurts.
"If you don' t smile for me I' m going to have to turn off the TV and turn out the lights," the nurse warns. I hate her. She is always trying to make me do silly things like smile or laugh. She has never felt pain in her life.
Leave me alone.
"OK, there goes the TV. Good night, sir." She turns off the lights and shuts the door behind her. My small bedroom disappears into the dark. I can hear her footsteps as she walks down the hall. The footsteps fade, and then all I can hear is the distant echo of my heart. A tear slowly finds its way to my pillowcase and dies. My world becomes quiet.
I' m alone.
It' s dark and I' m alone.
Why didn' t you ever come, Love?
I waited for you.
I waited for you.
我永远爱你，永远。
我仍然记得，当我还是一个懵懂的小孩子时，就总是想和你一起玩耍。然而，你生活的地方并不在我家附近，所以我们无法一起玩。我不知道你住在哪里，可是我知道，只要有可能，你就会与我相随相伴。我们一起玩抛接球、捉迷藏或者任何你想玩的游戏。只要是你喜欢玩的游戏，我都愿意陪你玩。我想要你告诉我，如何才能让你开心。
我独自一人玩耍，然而，你就在我的身边，我装做你就在我的身边。我从来不想和住一个街区的其他孩子一起玩耍，因为我有你的陪伴。
母亲总是要我到外面找邻居家的男孩子们一起玩耍。我不愿意参加青少年棒球联赛或加入童子军，母亲一直不理解其中的画因。她不会懂，我有你的陪伴，不需要其他任何人。
然而那个时候，我还不知道这就叫做爱情，我不明白什么是爱，我只是非常想与你相随。我无法说清楚那究竟是一种什么样的感觉。
后来，当男孩子们在学校里开始关注女孩子时，我并没有产生多么糟糕的感觉。他们对我这些年来的感受开始有了体会，他们需要女人，而那些女孩子也需要男人。他们开始成双成对，有些恋人至今仍然在一起。爱情的美妙就在于它的永恒吧！
我说自己的感觉并不坏，然而那只是一个开始。没多久，他们就问我有没有女朋友，我说有，然后他们就理所当然地想知道是谁。我不能把真相告诉他们，只好编故事说，我在外婆家过暑假的时候认识了你，我们现在天各一方。一些男孩子认为那很酷，其他男孩子则认为我在说谎。我努力不在意他们的话，努力不让自己感到困扰。
夜晚，我躺在床上思念你。我想知道那一天你都做了什么，你喜欢你的学校吗？你哪门功课最好呢？我总是设想你的英文很棒。我想象着，你写给我一封长长的情书，告诉我你是多么爱我。你在信的末尾写道：抱你，吻你。
有时，我想知道你是否认为等待是如此难熬，我想知道你是否有了男朋友。但是，我知道你是不会对他认真的，一旦我们能够在一起，你就会离开他。然而，我一想起这些就会有点儿嫉妒。如果有可能的话，我想成为第一个抚摸你的人， 第一个吻你、牵你手的人。我不想要其他任何人，你将会是我的第一个女孩。
上大学的时候，我发现单身的人越来越少，几乎每个人都交了朋友。班里的一些女同学已骗戴上了订婚戒指，她们自豪地在众人面前炫耀。一天，我去了位于商业街的一家珠宝店，并为你挑选了一款很漂亮的戒指。那是一款金钻戒，钻石的下面是一个银底座。我按照自己小指的尺寸买了一个，因为我不知道你戴多大的合适，我想，我们以后还可以再改。后来，我一直随身携带着那枚戒指，我想一见面就能把它送给你。
自从那天以后，我就用更多的时间想象你的手是什么样子的。我在脑海中描绘着这样的画面，我握着你的手，看着你的手掌上细微的纹路。我努力想象，你的手是如此纤细，如此柔弱。我骗常梦到你用纤细的手指抚摸我的脸庞，你的指尖碰到了我的双唇，我亲吻了它们。
