Good Morning Mantown,

Just another blond girl here, reporting on the ups and downs of living in paradise…

One evening this week I went to my sister’s for dinner.

I’m a very lucky expat blond girl as my younger sister lives a mere five-minute walk from my little home and we share our lives in paradise together with her partner and my gorgeous nephew.

This evening there was a man on the elevator as I left my sister’s apartment. I’ve met him a few times before. He smiled and asked how the baby is. He seemed genuinely interested. There was a kindness in his eyes and regret folded within the lines of his forehead.

He said, “It must be amazing to be that age. The way he must interpret the world in every moment – everything changing so quickly – so much to process!”

I nodded in agreement.

“He is adorable right now!” I said. “His personality is evolving everyday and just tonight he tried to mumble some little sounds that almost seem like words.”

“I regret it sometimes,” said the man. “I really do.”

“What?” I asked

“Not having children. You see when all of my friends were at that age and starting to settle down and have kids I was just so busy. I was gallivanting around the world for a job and prioritising the extravagance within that and so a family wasn’t even a consideration”.

I wondered if the actual circumstances suggested that he was merely a single career-orientated man without the option of a family and then he continued, “But we both regret it now sometimes…”

Aha, I thought, so he has a partner?

“Yes, we certainly think that maybe we have missed out. I do think I regret it for sure”.

And then the familiar pause and a halting thud opened the silver door releasing us from our few floors of connection.

He said, “I’m going to treat myself to an ice cream right now. Sometimes I need to do that. I avoid buying the whole tub in the grocer but then, from time to time, I just need to treat myself anyways.”

I smiled and said, “Yes, ice cream is always good isn’t it?” Both of us knowing that no amount of ice cream in the world could possibly fill a crater created by regret and the right choice not made.

He smiled again and wandered one pace ahead of me, to ease the awkward transition between the intimacy of a conversation in an elevator and the cool Autumn air outside as complete strangers.

As we neared the driveway I reached for my bicycle and started to search for the numbers on the lock. I’m not sure whether the bicycle reminded him of the time about six months ago when he found me locking this same bicycle to the front of his building? My basket was obviously loaded with Christmas presents and wine for my beloved family a few flights above.

I’m not sure if he recalled his furious attack of me daring to lock my bike to his new buildings’ gate? I’m not sure if he recalled flailing his arms repeatedly, scrunching his brow and throwing his fists in my face? I’m not sure if he recalled my response as I moved it to another location, “Merry Christmas Sir. I hope you have a wonderful holiday”. I’m not sure that he remembered?

We can never judge can we? We can never ascertain that we are sure of the goings on in another persons’ head. This man who raised his voice and threw his fists at me in disgust a mere six months ago, who shocked me with his anger and unrest, who left me refolding the altercation over and over again in sadness for days to come – This same man turned out to be a soft man, one willing to share with me a brief insight into a very intimate aspect of his life.

We never know what reality lies beneath the reactions of another human being, do we?

Tonight my memory of December 20^th unloading my bicycle, distraught by the reaction of this same man has now changed completely. I no longer feel attacked or regretful for choosing the ignorant place to secure my bike, I only feel the grief that temporarily drifted beneath this same man’s words, and now the space between us is blank again.

Maybe we will meet on another day, as I lock up my bike on a neighbouring rack, or as we exit the elevator, look up and catch the glance of each other’s eyes? Something has helped me to see beneath the surface of the man in my sister’s building and he is an honourable man and he made a choice for his life and sometimes he might be sad because of this.

I sit here today knowing that I could very well be sitting in his shoes one day. I might not, but I could be and therefore, I have no right to blame or accuse him based on a solitary response. We all have our stories. They are filled with ice cream and remorse, sometimes equal parts, sometimes with sprinkles, sometimes without even a cone.

This is life. Its’ unpredictable nature makes it the most terrifying turbulent flight we could ever survive and it is beautiful just because of this. There is always a risk and the potential for winning is eternally worth every single fall – At least that’s how I see it.

Aren’t we lucky humans?

xx