I was young and trusting, hitching a ride from Boston to New Paltz in the dead of winter on a snowy night. But I missed him so much after he left for college. I had to see him again.
The angels must have protected me that night. After two long rides I was left off at the exit on the thruway for New Paltz. As I looked across the wide road, in the opposite direction a young man stood with his finger out- hitching a ride towards Boston. It could have been out of a movie scene: the dark night, gentle snowflakes falling, his warm breath leaving a mist that surrounded him. We saw eachother simulatenously. It was the most intense, real love I ever felt. But as in young love, time and separation had its way. Our young love was intense, but fleeting. But Bruce never left my memory.
Years later, after my divorce I searched to find him. Records at New Paltz said he never graduated. Bruce was a member of MENSA, and I was surprised that he left school. He had big plans for his life. But great intelligence often makes a person feel isolated and can bring depression.
It took me over a year of searching social media, googling, contacting different friends to find the sad truth. I discovered, that at the same time I was going through a divorce, Bruce was living on the street, a heroine addict. He had died there from an overdose.
I often wonder what would have happened if I had found him when we were both free. Why did I wait so long? But alas, you can’t turn back the clock. But there is still a place in my heart where I wonder, “what if”? Is it possible that there is only one great love in a life? And despite other loves I had since then, my one true love is gone.