May be I've never encountered greater romance in my life.
Last night I got a call from my old high school friend. Her voice was as sweet as usual. We talked of how difficult it is to be in foreign land. She said she missed me so much. I laughed.
Suddenly she asked me, "Do you see the moon?”
I went over to the window. "Yea, I do," I answered, surprised.
"I see it too," she said, nearly inaudible. I thought she was crying.
I was about to say, "so what?” when I slowly went back through the memory lane and remembered how she would compare me to the moon. I remembered how she used to call me ‘yongba’ as she arranged my gong (a white scarf worn with gho). I remembered how she would run to me after evening prayer and whisper in my ear, “goodnight dear”. I remembered how we used to steal glances during the morning assembly. I would smile. She was a wonderful friend.
She once told me that her boyfriend never gave time for her. It never bothered me. In fact I never cared. After all it was their love story. But why does it bother me today?
“Happy valentine day Kinzang”, she said finally.
I looked up in the sky. It was a bright full moon night. Why would the valentine day be on full moon night if it wasn't for a reason.
“Bye”, she hung up.
“Happy valentine day Pema”, I whispered.