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1

Lounge / The Woman of Tomorrow

« on: May 08, 2013, 10:20:31 AM »

(This weekend is Mother’s Day, and the following article is a tribute to the women in their vital role in perpetuating the human species.)


The Woman of Tomorrow
By Angel B. Casillan


I have often wondered about what the woman’s role would be in the distant future. We know that in the past, she carried the big burden in continuing and preserving the civilizations of the human societies.  During the nomadic era of human history, she was the family planner, being the keeper of her children. In the current culture of codependency, and independence between men and women, her role is changing where she is becoming the leader of the family unit and of the community.

Evolution in its natural state would produce the fittest individual to survive in a given environment. In the past, evolution had adjusted to the condition of the available food supply. Planet Earth at present is supporting billions of people that if left unchecked, its human population would exponentially expand, which could implode under its own weight. When the time comes that earth could no longer support its human population, nature would take its own course to stabilize itself.

Nowadays, human beings are working on ideas to clean up the planet of the pollution that are being produced by the ever-expanding population.  But in the not too distant future, when an imbalance in population occurs, the man made pollution would cause disasters, warfare and pestilence due to lack of food supply, leaving only the adaptable fittest of the population to survive. This scenario would repeat itself several times until a new generation of tough, fit human beings would come out of these scenarios. Because this new breed of humans came out from the very challenging environment, they would be bigger in size in order to have excess body for reserve in cases of eventualities like diseases and physical challenges. Genetic changes would ensue, dramatically increasing the intelligence quotient of the human race to accommodate the changes in the environment. The last genetic change took 50,000 years for human beings to acquire speech and behavior but in a fast moving scientific and technologically advanced society, the human mind and body would evolve in a shorter period of time to adapt.

Comes the year AD 25,000, the human being on earth would become a walking giant compared to our current standard. During the years when Man would be challenged with very difficult circumstances, his unused brain matters would be put to work. In the past history of human evolution, this situation found itself repeated in three genetic changes since the human link split from the Chimps five million years ago, until the appearance of the modern Man at about 100,000 years ago. If more of his brain were to be used, it would need more supply of nutrition and energy from the cells all over his body. The brain supplied with more nutrition would grow, necessitating the human body to become bigger to provide more cells for manufacturing the energy. This situation would provoke an evolutionary process with the human being increasing in his physical size and his brain.

There is a law in science about matter and energy which states that the total quantity of matter and energy in the universe is fixed. It should also apply to the fixed maximum amount of food supply that could be produced on this earth. When the human population reaches its maximum population capacity using the maximum food supply available, that would translate to the optimum population that the earth could maintain, and the excess population would cause challenges. The enlarged brains of human beings exposed to difficult challenges and opportunities would contribute to the superior intellect of the future mankind. It was recorded in history that as the brain capacity of the humans had increased, their innovation and skills also had advanced.

At this juncture, the genetic changes that would have occurred would benefit the women more than the men because of the multifaceted work and opportunities that the women would have had borne in the society. There would be a reversal of roles for men and women, where women would be up front in the management of society. With the women bearing the bigger roles carrying the babies inside their bodies and nurturing them after birth until they could fend for themselves, on top of their other responsibilities in the management of society, the genetic change would evolve women into superwomen. Women’s physical stature would approach or equal that of the men but the women’s average intelligence would be higher than that of men, which is natures’ way to compensate for the extra load of work that the women are assigned to perform. When a woman becomes equal with a man, that would be the time that she would become superior to him.

 How about courtship and marriage? Since the world would have become a woman’s world, then the woman would select the man of her life.  The women being prominent in the government would be more conservative in decision-making concerning conflicts and warfare, thereby minimizing loss of life due to wars because of their strong kinship with their children. The chores and the additional responsibilities assigned by society to women would make the theory of evolution favorable to women by maximizing anything that’s being used and minimizing the unused. Where would the macho men of distant tomorrow’s today? They would be the extinct exhibits of a different era, victims of the new society.

Have you heard about the Amazons of the Greek Mythology, a race of female warriors who were tall, strong and masculine? Although the story was just a pigment of the Greeks’ imagination, it was probably their thoughts of evolution that would come in the distant future. When human mind imagines about certain things or ideas, the fact that it exists in the mind is tantamount to its existence somewhere, in time…

 (P.S.  Above is just my imagination, a child of my idle brain)

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Your Thoughts Exactly / “Friendships chiseled so deeply in our mind”

« on: November 01, 2011, 01:37:38 PM »

“Friendships chiseled so deeply in our mind”
By Angel Casillan

We attend school reunions to have a good time. We get together with friends with whom we share a common college experience, sharing with one another the adventures or misadventures that brought us to where we are.  
As human beings, we have a deep connection to one another by virtue of our common ancestry. We always find reasons to celebrate our commonality. Even our early ancestors would gather socially around a bonfire to talk about the things and occurrences around them. This became their cultural legacy to us, manifested by our penchant for fiestas, dances, and other get-togethers.

Last weekend, I attended a college reunion in Los Angeles. It was an opportunity for me to relive my undergraduate life with friends whom I have not seen in decades. Although time had transformed our faces and had dispersed us to so many different places, we did not lose the friendships formed during our college days, friendships that had been chiseled so deeply in the walls of our mind.[/i]

                    IMAGE CREDIT: MYSWEETPROMISES.COM BLOG BY BONET SMILE

A Filipino memory of close friendships in college (representation only)

When the reunion ended and I parted with my friends, the feelings that I had during my college graduation started to haunt me and found expression in the following snatches of verse:

College Reunion

When we have reunions to have fun and to celebrate,
We think about the years that got lost but didn’t forget.
We recall stories about the hard times and the good times,
And about so many other memories that linger in our mind.

The things we did we recall along with the tunes of the years,
Even the fun and laughter that comfort our imagined fears,
The challenges and barriers we persevered so hard to cross,
All rush back with the lyrics of the songs we loved to hear.

But if there are memories that would bind us forever,
It would be about the life in college that we had together.
Fondly now we remember the professors who’d skin us alive,
But from whom we learned to become resourceful to survive.

We have had failures then but they didn’t make us grieve,
Instead they gave us great strength and made us truly brave.
The knowledge they imparted and the education we gained,
Became our lifelong tools for acquiring fortune and fame.

Why do people love reunions and can hardly wait?
Because if they meet in heaven, it would be too late;
Reunions are for us whom life has dispersed far and wide,
Yet drawn back by memories of school as a lifelong bond.

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Your Thoughts Exactly / "Growing Up With My Father" by Angel B. Casillan

« on: June 15, 2011, 09:59:54 AM »

Growing Up With My Father
By Angel B. Casillan

Summer vacation was a much anticipated period during my grade school. I would spend it playing with friends in my neighborhood or vacationing in the barrio with my grandfather, who loved to entertain me with stories. But most endearing to me were those times when I would tag along with my dad to the capital of Pangasinan, where he would do business at the provincial capitol. My dad was a very simple man, unsophisticated in the ways of the city, but I adored him because he was always around when I was growing up. He loved to tell stories about his childhood in the barrio, stories brimming with so many lessons in life that later, when I reached adult age, I came to refer to him as “the backyard philosopher.” A math teacher, my dad supplemented his meager income by doing miscellaneous jobs as a clerk and as a public notary for sales and mortgage contracts and other documents.

On those days when I would go with my dad, we would start quite early to avoid the heat and hustle of traveling.  After an early morning breakfast, I would put on my good attire of short pants, white shirt, and rubber shoes with the Marcelo label (a popular brand at the time). This was because my mother wanted me to look good every time I went out. She would say that every time I go to church, I should look special as a sign of respect to God, and that I should do the same when I travel so people who didn’t know me would be nice to me. Anyway, my dad and I would go to the town center to catch the red Pantranco bus bound for the town of Lingayen. The 17-kilometer trip would seem forever because the bus would stop every now and then to pick up passengers. As the big bus roared along the bumpy and dusty road, a thick cloud of dust would follow and it would overcome us every time the bus stopped. So,  by the time we reached the next town, my dad and I would be covered with dust, dust that coated my black hair and made me look like a brunette. (In those days, women wore bandannas to protect their hair).

In the next town, the bus would stop in the town center in front of the Catholic seminary school that my mother wanted one of us her boys to attend. My mother, a devoutly religious woman whose bag brimmed with novenas for the saints, wanted a priest in her family to complete her devotion. One of my brothers tried to  make her wish come true, but he dropped out of school when he found out that girls were more interesting company than boy seminarians.

Before reaching the town proper of Lingayen, the Pantranco bus would turn right to a beautiful boulevard, the center of which was lined with blooming kalachuchi (frangipani) and acacia trees, giving the road a grandiose look. The boulevard ended in front of the provincial capitol building, which at that time was the tallest and biggest man-made structure I had ever seen. As my dad proceeded to the treasury and registration area to finish his business, I would run up the stairs to the building’s sky room to marvel at the sea that extended all the way to the horizon.

I often wondered what lay beyond that horizon. It was a question that always peppered my little mind.  I remember asking my dad that question and he answered, “The world is round and if you go around it, you would be back to where you started off,” which was such a profound statement at that time of my life. Very often, as soon as he was done with his business, my dad would take me to the beach where I would wade in and play. The roaring waves would sound like marching soldiers trying hard to get ashore, only to be pushed back by the million grains of sand lining the shore. For fear that someone might grab my legs, I never went deep in the water beyond my father’s reach. I would pick up seashells for souvenirs and watch the waves as they kept on roaring monotonously onward to the beach, only to be foiled again and again. Of added interest to my innocent eyes at such times was the sight of girls and young women in swimsuits, for there were simply no places in my hometown where such revealing outfits could be seen.

Before taking our trip back to my hometown, my father and I would go to the city market to buy bocayo, my favorite coconut pastille. He would always buy it from his favorite salesgirl, who always gave him a discount. Finally, we would take the red Pantranco bus bound for San Carlos. Along the way, while my dad told me stories about things we saw along the way, I would enjoy the bocayo. We would once again be subjected to the dust and bumps of the road, so that by the time we were home, I would be so tired, my skin layered with a thin coat of mud—mud created by my own sweat that mixed with the dust.

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Your Thoughts Exactly / “It’s Springtime!” by Angel Casillan

« on: March 19, 2011, 05:30:31 AM »

“It’s Springtime!”
By Angel Casillan

What would be nicer than the ground with no traces of snow?
It’s when trees and shrubs are covered with colors of the rainbow,
It’s when the cardinal up the tree sings for his absent love,
And when people leave their shelter to greet the sky above.

It’s spring when squirrels chase each other from tree to tree,
And the slumbering creatures get out to enjoy the sunny day,
When robins flock together for rituals to sing again and again,
Where by June we will see the numbers that they gain.

It’s spring when tulips find their way out with the daffodils,
Waken by the warmth and showers from the heaven’s wells.
When shrubs and orchard trees sprout their colorful flowers,
It’s a promise that the fruits would bring a wonderful summer.

It’s spring when the south wind comes with a sudden breeze,
To scatter the shoots and blossoms of the neighborhood trees,
When nature comes to clean and replace all the sad blues,
Because the cold wind has fled and the winter is lost.

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Your Thoughts Exactly / "Not Only in My Dream!" by Angel Casillan

« on: February 12, 2011, 07:07:11 AM »

Not Only in My Dream!
By Angel Casillan

As I threw myself into the thick of the night
To fathom its dark recesses with just a beam of light,
It was fortunate that there was a little twinkling star
Whose rays gave light to the byways to where you are.

Because in my mind I knew from the very start
That your silhouette fit the contours of my heart.
So when l gazed upon your beautiful and gentle face,
I knew then that I found in you my long, lost wish.

It started when I first saw you in that crowded hall
Where your loveliness bounced against the mirrored walls,
And when the radiance of your eyes penetrated my soul,
It melted my yesterdays’ pasts, leaving me with nothing at all.

So happily as I was holding you in a tight embrace,
Beams of bright light showered my happy, smiling face.
But as I held you tight and tighter while I kept on dreaming,
I was overjoyed to wake up and find you beside me this morning.

***

IMAGE CREDIT: WEKNOWYOURDREAMS.COM
                  
Afterthoughts
 
I have been thinking why women enjoy poetry more than men enjoy it. I know that when I write poetry, my feelings are more intense than when I write prose. Does it mean then that women are more intense in matters of love?

What is romantic love? Science could not explain it but people know when they are in love. Sometimes, it is just the smile or the eyes that would trigger the feelings of being in love. It is indeed a mystery in life and I think it’s best to leave it that way.

A lot of times, love could easily start with a smile, then could grow with a kiss but could end up with laughter or with tears.

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Your Thoughts Exactly / "A Prayer to St. Jude" by Angel Casillan

« on: January 23, 2011, 04:56:24 PM »

A Prayer to St. Jude
By Angel Casillan

Like the moon in the sky that comes and goes,
Life is on a schedule, much like a city bus,
Experiences and lessons that hitch the ride,
Become the best teachers always by our side!

My story took place during my college days, when a lot of things were happening in my life. That October day, on my way back to Manila from my hometown after a school break, I happened to meet a girl who was a student at the Philippine Women’s University. The train ride then took about four hours, long enough for people to meet and forge friendships. She was seated on the couch across from me, intently reading the book Noli Me Tangere by Jose Rizal. After a while, she stopped reading and dropped the book by her side. Our eyes met and she gave me a faint smile. It was the right opening that I was waiting for, so I asked her, “Do you know that Leonor Rivera lived in Dagupan for a while and that she also had relatives in Lingayen?” I must have aroused her interest because as it turned out, she was from Dagupan City herself. She introduced herself as Julie. She was reserved and pretty with a little slant in her eyes; when she smiled, her face radiated the morning sunrise.

The previous semester, I had just finished the course on the life and times of Jose Rizal, so my knowledge about his life was still very fresh in my mind. To impress her, which is one way boys try to attract girls, I talked in detail about Rizal. I made it appear that I was a well-informed and a well-read person, but I really wasn’t because the only books I would read at the time were my textbooks. Anyway, our conversation got more animated when we discussed in depth Rizal’s love for Leonor Rivera, who was to become the Maria Clara character in Noli Me Tangere. “Leonor eventually married an Englishman,” I said, “because her mother harbored a deep distrust of Rizal.” I enjoyed the girl’s company so much that at the end of the trip, I suggested that we should see each other again. She agreed to meet me in front of the St. Jude Church the following Thursday, which was novena day in honor of the saint. That, I thought, was good timing for both of us because it was college enrollment week and classes would not start until the Monday of the following week.

I looked forward very keenly to that Thursday. So, after putting on my best, I left home early and made it to the church a full thirty minutes before the agreed-upon time for our date. I went inside the church to say a prayer of thanks for my good luck in having met that girl. At ten minutes before 5:00 P.M., I positioned myself inconspicuously in front of the church; all that time my thoughts were racing, figuring out where he two of us would go after the church novena. I was so excited and nervous as I screened every face that came my way. But fifteen minutes passed and my date was still nowhere around. I thought that maybe she was held up by heavy traffic. I waited for another hour to give her a chance to beat the traffic, but still she was a no-show. I ended up alone in front of the church, standing in a corner like a statue.  

I was so disappointed when I realized that I had been stood up. Feeling like a fool, I decided to go home with my wounded pride. The irony in my situation was that I waited in vain in a church named after St. Jude, the patron saint of the hopeless. On board the bus that I took going home, I thought deeply about my misfortune and it brought to mind the movie An Affair to Remember, which I had seen sometime back. I began to imagine myself as the character played by the actor Cary Grant, stood up by his date at the very top of the Empire State Building. I recalled that the two lovers had promised that if one of them could not make it to the date, it would be for a very good reason. I wondered then if my date had such a good reason, perhaps an afterthought that it was not proper to have a date with a new-found friend who is still very much a stranger. But I decided that she was not worth any further thought and crossed out her name forever from my life. Still, I went home so dejected, never even mentioning to my brother what happened to avoid being teased as the forsaken dashing Romeo.

When the second semester started, I fell back to my study routine. Like many of the students in my school, studying was my total preoccupation during the weekdays, keeping only Saturdays free for unwinding myself and seeking relief from the pressure of my studies. During that time, the Women’s Club of our school was sponsoring once-a-month Saturday dances to create a conducive atmosphere for girls to meet boys. For freshman and sophomore girls enrolled in the Euthenics class, one of the requirements was to attend those monthly socials so they could practice the social graces that they were learning from the class.

I distinctly remember that particular Saturday night in December when I attended the last monthly socials before the school’s Christmas break. On one side of the dance hall were girls lined up like wallflowers, waiting to be invited to dance by the boys. My roving eyes were captivated by one of them—a girl with hair in ponytail and wearing a red-and-white dress. It took me a while to summon enough courage to approach her, but I finally managed to do so and introduced myself. I think meeting her that night was providential, for I soon found out that she spoke the same dialect as mine and came from the same province as mine. In any case, before the socials that night ended, I asked her if it would be all right for me to visit her during the Christmas break and meet her family. She didn’t respond, probably thinking that I was just one of those many crazy young men who would swear by the moon.

I went back to my hometown during the Christmas break, and the day after Christmas, I set out to visit the girl in her own hometown. The trip took about an hour along bumpy and dusty roads. I did not know where she lived so when I reached the town, I asked around. Thankfully, the town barber knew everybody and he directed me to the shortest route to her house. I showed up in the girl’s house in no time at all, surprising her and her family with my determination and with my resourcefulness to come and see her. After that first visit, it dawned in me that she was the girl that I would like to marry someday. Many years still had to pass, though, before both of us were convinced that we were really meant for each other. We eventually decided to get married after getting to know each other much better. I found my soul mate in her and she found her first and only love in me.

Three decades later, my wife and I attended her high school reunion in Chicago. There, we met the barber who had given me the directions to her house in her hometown. And as a fond reminder that he was once a tiny but crucial bridge in our love story, my wife and I had photos taken with him in between the two of us.

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Lounge / "Before Winter Comes!" by Angel B. Casillan

« on: January 16, 2011, 09:15:13 PM »

Before Winter Comes!
By Angel B. Casillan
 
While the cool air blankets the autumn splendor,
We gather the fruits of our past bountiful summer,
Amidst the horizon flushing the beams of the sun,
While the blowing wind flutters the leaves one by one.
 
These are times when trees and bushes are aglow,
With plants around us turned colors green to yellow,
We wear the crowns that gleam like shinning gold,
Which are fruits of years that made us tired and old.
 
The whistling wind blowing that never seems to last,
It’s changing a life into becoming memories of the past,
What we had built for our warmth and for our shelter,
We enjoy for comfort in autumn before we rest in winter.
 
When late autumn comes, it’s life’s way of saying goodbye,
To all of our spring’s and summer’s bright, beautiful skies,
This is the picture that will hang in our memories’ wall,
Of people like leaves losing their color before they fall.

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Lounge / "A Secret Love" by Angel Casillan

« on: December 28, 2010, 10:26:11 AM »

A Secret Love
By Angel Casillan

When we were young, life was fast and we were often between tears and laughter. The beautiful thing about being young is that when we fall, we have plenty of time to recover. We endure the fall for a while, but because of our youth, healing comes fast. But then pictures or other treasured souvenirs would sometimes resurrect the experiences we have had. I had such an experience that totally engages my mind whenever I think about it. It is about my secret love, a love that was so secret that I have not talked about it until now.

This story is about the secret love I had in college—a young woman who did not know that I was in love with her at that time. She was my friend and how I wish now that she had known that I was more than just her friend. Had she had known that I existed, would she have liked me? I don’t know; only God knows. But today, if she chances upon this, I would like to ask her this question: Does she recognize herself in the story?

Although time and distance could transform us into different persons, the fun and the disappointments we have experienced over the years remain ingrained in our minds, always reminding us of where we had been. This story is about my secret love for a young woman, a story that is hers to keep because I am dedicating it especially to her, a story that, well, she might be able to use as a basis for a movie script of a Filipino love story.

It was the first day of school and I was new in the college. I was leaning on the corridor when a girl in blue walked towards my direction. She was shy, passing by without even lifting her eyes to glance at me. The scent of her perfume was like the song of the Lorelei along the river Rhine, so I followed her to the library. She positioned herself at the end of the room and I sat a distance away so I would not be conspicuous. I studied the contours of her face, later noting in my journal that she had pageboy hair, round eyes, thin lips, a Natalie Wood look.

We attended some subjects together and we became friends, but her shyness made her reclusive; she did not hang out with her classmates. In a science class during the summer that followed, I managed through a little manipulation to become her laboratory partner. I was an easygoing student then, and my ambition was just to make a passing grade—no more, no less. This time, though, I made an extra effort to make an impression on her, to make her know that I was not really dumb. So I made it a point to be always ready with all the assignments, something that was not really normal with me. Indeed, without knowing it, she had eliminated a bad habit of mine.

As the days went by, I gradually fell for her. I knew it was happening because thoughts of her preoccupied most of my idle time. One evening, while I was studying with my radio on, Frank Sinatra went on the air singing “Imagination.” It seemed to me that the melancholic tune and lyrics were describing me and my feelings. I then realized that I was in love with her. Every time I thought of her, my hands would sweat, which I knew was a sign of stress cause by adrenaline flow. And in those times I just loved to go to school and to be always prompt at the laboratory room so I could see her; my longing was like the dewdrops on flowers in the early morning. After school, while hanging out with groups or eating out, it was a wonderful feeling just to be with her. Just to catch a glimpse of her was nourishment to my aching heart. And my desire to impress her contributed in no small measure to my doing very well in the class and to my enjoyment of my professor’s lectures.

One Sunday afternoon, against the advice of the gods, I visited her at her dormitory. To my surprise, she came out to the reception area and greeted me. Wow, was I tongue-tied! I became so uneasy being there with her, so I invited her out. We walked to a nearby coffee shop and ordered buko pie, which was her favorite. We sat at a corner table where I would always steal admiring glances at her pretty sight. We talked for some time, talking about our class and the characters we knew, after which we walked back to her dormitory. We said our goodbyes and I went home. In my mind then, I asked myself, “Does she like me? Does she know that I am falling for her?” I answered myself, “Maybe, yes, maybe she likes me too because I am cute and maybe smart, and that was why she came out to see me.” When I got back home, I then wrote in my journal: “First base.”  I really thought that I had made it to the first base of the game called love.

The Monday after that meeting, I never mentioned to my buddies that I visited her; I felt so bashful, afraid to be exposed as someone who had a secret love. And when we came to our class, she did not act differently and this made me think that she liked me too. As usual, she was friendly to me, so I imagined that she would someday be my bride and I would be able to show her that I was really a talented person. I knew that I had a lot of talents, but the problem was that I simply got no chance at all to show them off. The fact was that I had a photographic mind and could imagine things below the surface and out in space—a talent that unfortunately were not helpful in my studies at the time.

But I enjoyed being in class with her; just to be near her as my laboratory partner was good enough for me. Life was wonderful to me at that time, and my grade got a lot better than my normal passing grades. What a wonderful summer it was! My dream girl was my partner and I did not have any difficulty in class. At night, sometimes my dreams would be filled by her presence; I loved dreaming about her because I could see her without any effort. And the song “Imagination” became my inspirational hymn, one that told my story for that whole summer.

The following school year, we were classmates again and this made my secret love burn into a high flame. I then invited her to come to a class party with me. To my surprise, she accepted my invitation. Maybe she really likes me, I said to myself, but I was not too sure about it. Maybe she considers me simply as a brother, which would be the end of the world for me. How then could I ever profess my love to her? I was very shy and I couldn’t bear the thought of being rejected, so I contented myself with keeping my love for her as secret as possible. I was sure that there was nothing in my image that would attract girls. I was just an ordinary student, with a normal GPA, which, of course, was not an outstanding measure of success in school. And I became obsessed with the idea that if she only knew that I had a lot of hidden talents, maybe she would like me. To my disappointment, however, my talents were utterly useless at that time. Those talents could not help me get outstanding grades because I could not use them in the exams; they were of use to me only outside the classrooms.
  
One weekend, while she was waiting for her ride home, I asked her if I could go with her.  She said ever so politely that I could not because…not even finishing what she said. It then dawned on me that maybe I was just a good friend to her, no more, no less. Disappointed, I went home and I played the song “Imagination” on my radio-cassette player. As I listened to the lyrics, it became clear to me that it was telling the very story of my secret love, a love that began as a secret and would remain a secret. As the melody and lyrics of the song lingered in the air, I wondered if I would ever find one like her again:

Imagination is silly
You go around willy-nilly
For example I go around wanting you
And yet I can’t imagine that you want me too.

I always wondered at the time if she ever knew how deep my love was for her. In my journal, I wrote the following verse as a closure to my secret love:

“I love her the day I met her
That was when it first began
I never thought that I could love her more
But I found out that I can
Every day she grew more wonderful
And she always will I know
I’ll keep on loving her more and more
Through the years that come and go.”

Looking back, I wonder if she could have loved me if I had professed my love to her after my graduation from college, when I became sure that I really was smarter than when I was still studying.

After graduation, I did not see her until 25 years later. That was when I met her family and she met mine. In my wife I had already found my soul mate, and my secret love became my best friend ever and my best friend forever.