Today Prince Harry is a captain and working in a military unit. Maybe the young ladies passing through his life are not few. But he often remembers the time he was a cadet in Sandhurst Academy and the picture of a young girl he met. It happened that time, somewhere in the Southern Hemisphere, close to Capetown,  and he was impressed by the look and the smile of a young woman.

She was a student at a university in the capital of South Africa. She spent plenty of her free time in volunteer activities  for children in hospitals. This made him think they both had been born under the lucky star of those meant to help, those in need and sorrow.  He was trying even the impossible to be part of those actions, just to meet her. And when it happened he found her busy, he was patient and happy when she comforted him with a smile. In return, she greeted him every time they met with a salute gesture and an innocent childish smile.

Her reserved attitude, mere greetings and smiles, made Harry doubt about himself. He had not revealed his identity to her yet, but she did not seem to care about it. He looked in the mirror critically. He had never been taken for Adonis; he never paid too much importance to his looks. And yet, her indifference bothered him!

But the long waited day has finally arrived. Only that it was too late as the Prince’s schedule required his presence back in the country as soon as possible. She replied to his call with a suave friendship which made him feel he was born under a lucky star. Fairy like moments followed, secret dates, finished with a shy kiss. The few days offered to each other without fear, would put a mark on him for a very long time.

Was it possible under these circumstances for a love to be born? It materializes into wishes and gestures repeated instinctively each time. His fingers would love to gently touch her sweet cheek. His mind is obsessed with the sadness in her eyes when leaving. Could it be love? Could this be the right time and age for a  couple to be formed? A new couple!

He wanted her to come, sneaking into his bed at night, like a virgin of ancient times. Beautiful as an angel or a goddess adored by the ancient Greeks. Beautiful and wanted! Even if only in his mind, the moments spent with her were invaluable. Remoteness makes the emptiness grow painfully. The emptiness inside us!

“She might be looking at the same sky, same stars now!” he was thinking.

It might be that my thoughts are just like the echo or the waves of a powerful radio station that get to her, in the remote distance where she is.

“Forgive me for looking for you so awkwardly!” he says to her. Forgive the pain I am causing you. Your love darkens my star. And my passing through this world becomes slower. I want to see you.  I want to hold your hand in mine. My hand is the call. My love is an ardent passionate fire. Your love is a smile of a flower!”

It is certain that out there, somewhere, when hearing his thoughts she replies to him: Come sooner to me, now that it is still early! Now that I still keep the memories alive, like newly bloomed dahlias. Come now while my eyes are still full of expectance. My long hair is heavy and darkened by silence. Now when laughter sounds like a bell in the silence of the night. As if you forget me, I will no longer be any of those!”

But as time passed, it all became blurred, the image of unique and never to occur again moments, words, unique feelings. A world born just for two, a fascinating world! Their meeting was like a dance of butterflies. Their only dance – enticing, intriguing and bewildering. But also painful!

The thousands of miles between them seemed calculated in light years. Thinking of the distance between them, his soul was about to break. With pain and because of so much waiting. He longed for those times when he could wait for her, which he wished had never ended.

Because man is meant to be happy through love. Happiness is becoming, the gradual fulfilment of intimate aspirations, of the inner calling, of our inner destiny.

Today, that young lady is just a nice memory.


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