You’ll Know I’ve Left When…
Prague, Czech Republic
Prague, they told me, had been under winter and mid-spring’s spell: wet and cool. The day I arrived, the southern Cal sun must have been in my pocket. That day and the subsequent week were warm. The sun shined bright. And what can go wrong when the sun is shining?
I met her on one such day. She was among the staff on our trip to the refugee camp. Extended glances were exchanged as were a few words. She joined us for a drink, back in Prague, at Letna Park that overlooks the river and downtown, then later for dinner.
After eating, we stood outside the restaurant about to depart in opposite directions. She, being Czech, said, “Goodbye, American.”
I inquired, as any traveler (and anyone with a pulse) would, “Will I ever see you again?”
“Maybe later on in the week,” she replied (with hope in her eyes?).
“Well, if I don’t see you again,” I said, glancing in the general direction of my shoelaces, “You’ll know when I’ve left when the weather changes.” The ongoing joke was that I had brought the sun and would again take it upon my departure.
Robert Frost wrote in his poem, “The Road Not Taken,” Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.
I didn’t. Nor did she. And I never saw her again.
But I did hear that the day I left the sun disappeared, and hail, like they’d never seen before, fell from the sky and pummeled the ground.
I’d like to think, at that moment, she knew I was gone.
Posted in travel - international, my favorites, travel
