BG 171 – All the times I missed you

That time when I was at that party, had just fetched two drinks and moved through the teeming mass of people with the drinking glasses at head height, while I thought I heard my name being called out somewhere in the crowd, but wasn’t sure, and I had to keep my attention while I maneuvered to the right spot, where a female friend was waiting for me, without spilling.
Or that time in the supermarket, when I had collected everything I needed in my shopping cart and I joined the queue for one of the cash registers, checking my watch to see if I would still be on time for my next appointment and then pulled out my debit card to pay with, so I didn’t see that you tried to get my attention from the queue in front of another checkout.
Or that time in the cinema, when, just before the film started, I was having an intense conversation with a good friend and we were almost bent over to hear each other better, just before the room lights went out and we were being urged to silence by the people around us (shhhh!), after which you became invisible like everyone else.
Or that time in the woods, when I was walking my neighbors’ dog, who were on holiday and who had asked me to look after Wodan, and I had my hands full to see that good boy Wodan, who had suddenly turned into a savage, would not tear himself free from the leash to run after a squirrel, and you had been a shadow among the trees in the distance.
Or that time when I sat in a bus just leaving the central station and another bus from the opposite direction just entered the station and for a split second, I thought I recognized you behind those windows, but didn’t dwell on it for long.
Or that time when I was withdrawing money from one of the few ATM’s left in town, and I realized that there are other people out there who still use cash and you were behind me in line.
Or that time when I felt like a pair of eyes were poking into my back, when I was enjoying the spring sun on a terrace, and I was too lazy to turn around and subsequently convinced myself that I had just been imagining it.
Or that time when the phone rang and kept ringing, but I was kneading bread dough and of course couldn’t answer.
Or that time I accidentally deleted all messages that had come in on my phone without reading them first.
Or that time when I was sitting at home reading a book and, to not be bothered by noise, had temporarily switched off the doorbell.
Or that time I was working in the backyard, with my hands in the mud, because I’d just planted a shrub, and I vaguely thought I heard the front doorbell, but wasn’t quite sure.
Or that time you tapped me on the shoulder from behind, but someone right in front of me just asked for my attention.
Or that time I was on a plane on my way home from a distant destination and I closed my eyes with fatigue, even though I couldn’t sleep, and apparently you had been sitting three rows behind me.
Too bad, all those times I’ve missed you.
But you, turning your head away indifferently: ‘That wasn’t me.’