I come home every day to an empty house, the unwashed dishes, clothes drying from the clotheslines and photographs remind me that others stay in the house too. But I do not feel their presence until I’m half-asleep in my bed.

I am alone. I am lonely.

Are my parents my parents because of their blood, their DNA flowing in my body? Or does care and concern need to be in the equation also? I often seek solace from books. Does it mean that books are my family, then? A silly thought I know. And I also know how hard my father and mother work to feed and clothe me. I am not ungrateful, truly I am not. But I just wish...

I am being foolish. Wanting my mother to discover my frequent sneaking out for some sailor scout business. Will she be proud of my secret identity as Sailor Mercury, just like the way she was when I won the scholarship to Germany or will she think that I'd a bout of temporary insanity due to too much stress?

The scholarship. Serena and the rest think that I'm a genius. In fact, I think they're in awe of my brains. But little do they know that my thirst for knowledge actually stemmed form a need not to be alone anymore, that since I was little, I was woefully shy and delved into the world of literary works and befriended Shakespeare, Einstein, the way I yearned to befriend people my age. Ironic how the very thing I used to cure my loneliness actually led to my being shunned in school. Life is full of ironies, just like that song Alanis Morissette sung. (I wonder what would Serena and Raye say if they found my secret stash of Alanis, Santana CDs. They think that I only listen to Classical music.)

I am reminded of him again.

Of how we had bumped into each other one hot summer afternoon and spent an hour listening to his new Meat Loaf CD. We hadn’t talked much, just sat and listened. It was one of the best times of my life.

Strange how the simplest or most random thing or event will make me remember him. Strange how six years have past but I still think of him.

We were neighbours. And he was two years my senior. He wasn’t a bookworm like me. No, he practically shone with life and boundless energy. He could light up the room with his presence and capture everyone’s attention with a look. I should know, I was one of them. I remember spending hours standing at my window, watching him play basketball of other sports with the other kids below. I was simply content to watch. Then one day out of the blue, he ran up to me and asked seriously, "Amy, will you marry me?"

For a moment, I was dumbstruck. And then I murmured, "We’re too young."

"Duh, I meant when we’re older."

"Oh." My cheeks grew hotter. I was sure my face was crimson red by then. Slowly, I nodded.

He beamed, then ran off. A month later, he disappeared from my life.

He was ten years old then, and I was eight.

Despite my high IQ, I am a fool. A fool for remembering the day he proposed, for wanting him still, for hoping that one day, we would meet again and he would ask me the same question, only this time with a ring. Sometimes, I would envisage our reunion. I would be coming home after school and I’ll bump into someone. Murmurs of apologies left unspoken as we looked into each other’s eyes and knew we hadn’t forgotten each other, that we were waiting for this very moment. Haltingly, he would ask me if I remembered my answer to his question and I would wonder if I should say, "Yes." or pretend that I had forgotten and make him ask again…

I know I’m being naïve. We were kids then, he didn’t mean it. Nor will he remember it or me for that matter. I can’t even recall how he looked like anymore or remember his name. David? Danny? Derek? But I clutch onto the hope that he is somewhere out there waiting for me, the way a drowning man clutches onto a floating piece of flotsam. Maybe it is because I’m a romantic at heart. Maybe it is because I want to be loved by someone, the kind of true love Serena has with her Tuxedo Mask. Maybe it is because I remember how he made me feel whenever he was around. He made me feel alive, in a time when I was merely existing.

I’ve patiently waited for him for six years now, what is one more day?

So, I will continue to remember our promise, I will continue to hope that the next guy I meet will be him. I may be silly, foolish or just plain crazy but I will not be deterred.