World Enough and Time Ch. 03

I think we both thought that we just needed more time to pass, and that at some point, Boston would be a different place, and we could be together again, but it never happened. That was almost 40 years ago.

Tommy is undoubtedly a grown man now, probably with children, and possibly even grandchildren, of his own. And if he does have children, I am certain that he is every bit as loving and caring a parent as his mother, and probably someone who would do anything and everything to protect the people that he loves.

I never found out what happened to Ruth. I stayed away because she needed me to, and I reasoned that when the time came that she didn't need me to stay away, she would find me. She never did. I think Tommy probably told her what that boy said, and after that, she knew she couldn't be with me.

In these modern times, with the technological wherewithal at our fingertips to find most anyone anywhere in the world, I have resisted the overwhelming urge to try to find Ruth. I'm sure I could have done so on Facebook or a half dozen other social networking platforms or other search devices. But I can't do it, because it would hurt too much. In my experiences, what might have been is far more painful that whatever was.

Consequently, I never found out if she ever married again. I have no idea whether or not she still lives in Boston. I just know that Boston and America and the world are really different places than they were all those years ago, and I know, know in my heart of hearts, that Ruth and I could have made it together had we not fallen in love at the wrong time and in the wrong place.

I never married. I don't really know why. I had opportunities, and I suppose that I have regrets that I didn't take advantage of them. But for some reason, even decades later, I kept wondering if one day, Ruth would just show up at my door, and then I would be glad that I waited. It hasn't happened yet, and now, I don't think it ever will. But, even all these years later, I can't stop thinking about her, and more than anything else, I wonder if she thinks about me. If she does, I hope she thinks fondly of me.

I do realize that what we gave up had less urgency than what Ruth had no choice but to preserve. In the grand hierarchy of things, our most basic needs are, first and foremost, physiological ones: food, drink, oxygen -- the things that keep us alive. And what comes next is our own safety, and the well-being of the ones we love. Love and affection are priorities that are farther down the list. And so, Ruth placed her son's baser needs above her own, and for that, we both paid the price. I can't blame her for that, because I'd like to think she may even have learned a little about those priorities from me.

Whether or not Ruth DeStephano learned anything from me during those months we spent together is irrelevant, but what she taught me is perhaps the most valuable lesson that I've learned in my long and circuitous life: for all our innumerable dissimilarities, we are all, I believe, a whole lot more alike than we are different.