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Somewhere in the World

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Dark, penetrating eyes looked back at me from a somber, five o’clock shadow whiskered face. Dressed in a jet-black suit with a light pastel blue shirt and tie to match, this man stood tall and erect portraying confidence. No hint of a smile existed on his face. It was somewhat rare for a man of his age to be blessed with a generous full head of neatly styled salt and pepper hair with a touch of light gray at the temples. Faint bags under his eyes revealed that age and gravity were gaining the upper hand.


His constant unblinking stare remained uninterrupted by space and time. His face was the first thing I saw in the morning when I awoke and the last thing I saw before retiring to bed each night. As I gazed upon this photograph on a nightstand beside my bed, a million thoughts raced through my head. Unanswered questions flooded my mind. This picture was that of a middle-aged male model. Yet, he had to exist—somewhere in the world.


Surely, he is a real person with real hopes and dreams and a reputable job as a corporate business man who moonlights as a model. Or perhaps he is retired and spending time with hobbies and grandkids, or volunteering in his community, or breeding and raising German Shepherd dogs in the country. Chances are that he has a wife and children to support, and maintains a happy, full life. If he is a real person with a life, then surely he has also suffered through his share of life’s struggles, battles, and heartaches. He might have a wayward son or daughter, a broken marriage, or experienced the death of a loved one. Maybe he has heart wrenching inward pain and struggles, or secrets that will never be revealed or shared with anyone else.


What about the tone of his voice? Does he have a sexy soothing southern drawl that makes a heart want to melt? Or is it possible he might have a snappy, commanding business tone that gains immediate attention or action from all those who come within the sound of his voice? Or would he have a bit of a choppy, foreign accent to tickle my ears?


It could be that he is intelligent, spiritual minded, a positive thinker, a perfectionist, or a leader. Or he could be manipulative, controlling, abrasive, thoughtless, callous, and unmoved by the unfortunate life experiences of others. I wondered what type of personality this man possessed. Could it be possible that he might even be romantic, emotional, compassionate, loving and kind hearted, unencumbered and alone, earnestly praying and searching the whole world for his one special and final love?  


As my mind ponders the last possibility, I know in my heart that these thoughts are only a desire, a hope, and a disillusioned dream that may never come to pass; however, it never hurts to dream. Or does it? Again, I turn and gaze into his dark, piercing eyes. For a moment, I am caught under his spell and captured by a power that only he can possess. My heart skips a beat as I ask in a low whisper, “Where are you?”


Somewhere in this world, the man in the photo exists—though my restless heart may never find him.

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