On my way back from the airport this winter break, the driver started telling me his life love story. There was only one person he ever loved. One girl, who who was just beautiful “like the moon, you know” he said. He fell in love with her at age 18 after two months, where she confessed “she loved me too much.” And then she was engaged to another guy (I think arranged) so it could never be. And then she was a different religion and culture, and that many years ago it could never be. And then they both divorced and remarried independently, and the timing made it never to be. Still today, his entire family and even his third wife knows, he has only loved this girl.

I told him, but if it’s a real love I don’t think it’s ever too late. And he replied that now it was too difficult, the past is now the past.

I asked him, out of curiosity, how did you know? How from that young of an age are you certain this was the one? How could you know then you would love her even now? And he replied, “It’s a feeling. You just know.”

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Not to ruin the story, but the driver invaded personal space. I enjoy hearing stories, but even I have a limit. No touching please!