Time to Say Au Revoir

2 May, 2014
Houston

The springtime sunrise shone its very first rays of light, which ricoched down the cavern of the cobblestone street. Morning had come all too quickly for me. The intrusive burring of the telephone interrupted my rest, and told me that it was time to go, so I showered, shaved, and got dressed; then I headed downstairs for croissants and hot café-au-lait.

Sleep had not yet totally left me, as I stumbled onto the crew bus that was waiting just outside our quaint hotel. The windshield was huge, and afforded those who sat up front a spectacular view, so for that reason it was there where I chose to sit.

I yawned and wiped last night's sand from my eyes, took a last sip of coffee from a paper cup, and fell deep into thought about nothing in particular. I was soon joined by other crewmembers, as one-by-one they boarded. We exchanged brief greetings, and then all was quiet.

I was alone with my thoughts, and enjoying this tranquil time that preceeded a long drive, and a longer day of work. The driver had disappeared inside our small hotel to treat himself to a bite to eat, and a cup of strong coffee. Enjoying the dawn as it unfolded and embraced the Paris streets and buildings, I happen to notice one of our crew: a young lady, who was standing about one hundred meters away from the bus, on the sidewalk, under a green awning that was now illuminated by the ever-strengthening ante meridiem sunlight.

She was a lovely girl. Her eyes sparkled, and her whole face would light up whenever she spoke. Though endowed with physical beauty, even a blind man would call her beautiful, if once he met her.

She was standing next to a handsome young Frenchman about her same age. Some months before, the two fell in love and married. She continued to work as a flight attendant, and had the Paris run. This meant that the young man would see his bride every week - if only for a few precious hours - and then she would board that bus that was always waiting, and once again fly far away, with the promise to return.

So on that morning, the two were exchanging parting glances, their hands clasped together. The clock was ticking, and all too soon it was time for them to once again part ways. There was a brief kiss, one more long, last look, and then their hands unclasped, they uttered an unheard au revoir, and then this young man turned, and walked way, shading is eyes against the rising sun just before leaving.

It was indeed a poignant scene that unfolded in front of my eyes, and at first I felt like I was intruding on this private, tender moment. I was sad, too, seeing this separation of the newlyweds. My thoughts quickly raced to a song that I like, which was hidden deep in my memory, and I began to say the lyrics out loud. The young couple acted out the words as if the scene were choreographed:


"If time were not a moving thing, and I could make it stay,
This hour of love would always be - there'd be no coming day
to shine a morning light - and make us realize our night...
is over.

"When you walk away from me, there is no place to put my hand,
Except to shade my eyes against the sun that rises o'er the land;
I watch you walk away - somehow I have to let you go;
Now it's over.

"If you knew just how I really feel, you might return - and yet...
There are so many times when people have to love - and then forget;
Oh, there might have been a way; I have to force myself to say:
It's over.

"And so I turn my back, and turn my collar to the wind;
Move along in silence - trying not to think at all;
I send my feet before me; walk the silent streets before me:
Now it's over..."

As the young man slowly disappeared down the narrow Paris street, my thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a lady I worked with, asking: "Did you just make that up??"

Startled by this, I looked behind me, and there were four girls staring at me, smiling; the tears coursing down their faces. I didn't know I had an audience!

"No," I confessed, abashedly, "I wish I could write something so lovely - and so à propos. It's just the lyrics to a song I really love, and those very words unfolded right here in front of me. I couldn't help myself from saying them out loud!"

The driver then returned, with no clue whatsoever that something extraordinary had just happened in his absence. He closed the door. The magic moment of love and farewell on the sunlit sidewalk of Paris had disappeared, just as the early morning mists disappear from the Seine when the sun's light first glances on it. The engine of the bus roared to life, and we set out for Charles de Gaulle Airport, and another long trip --- and another longer day of work.