Wednesday, February 27, 2013

you could only guess :)

John Blanchard stood up
from the bench, straightened
army uniform and studied
the crowd of people making
their way through Grand Central Station. He looked
for the girl whose heart he
knew but whose face he
didn't, the girl
with the rose. His interest
in her had begun thirteen
months before in a Florida
library. Taking a book off
the shelf, he found himself
intrigued not
with the words of the book, but with the notes pencilled
the margin. The soft
handwriting reflected a
thoughtful soul and
insightful mind. In front of the book, he
discovered the previous
owner's name, Miss Hollis
Maynell. With time and
he located her address. She lived in New York City. He
wrote her a letter
himself and inviting her to
correspond. The next day he
was shipped overseas for service in World War Two
During the next year and
month, the two grew to
know each other through the
mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A
romance was budding.
Blanchard requested a
photograph but she refused.
She felt that if he really
cared, it wouldn't matter what she
looked like. The day finally
came for him
to return from Europe. They
scheduled their first
meeting at 7.00 p.m. at Grand Central
Station in New York. "You'll
recognize me," she
"by the red rose I'll be
wearing on my lapel."
Therefore John Blanchard
in the station at 7.00 p.m.
looking for a girl whose
heart he loved, but whose face he'd
never seen. I'll let Mr.
Blanchard tell you
what happened. "A young
woman whose
figure was long and slim was coming toward me. Her
hair lay back in curls from
delicate ears and her eyes
were blue as flowers. Her lips and
chin had a gentle firmness
she was like springtime come
alive in her pale green suit.
I made my way towards her,
totally forgetting to notice
that she was not wearing a
rose. A small, provocative
smile curved her lips. 'Going
my way, soldier?' She murmured. I made one step
closer to her
almost uncontrollably and
then I saw Hollis Maynell.
was standing almost directly
behind the girl. She was a
woman well past her forties
and she had greying hair
tucked under a worn hat.
She was more than plump and her
thick-ankled feet were
into low-heeled shoes. The
in the green suit was walking quickly away. I felt
as though
I was split into two. I was
keen to follow her but I had
to address my deep longing
for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned me
in the past year." "She stood
there as I observed
that her pale, plump face
gentle and sensible and her grey eyes had a warm and
kindly twinkle. I did not
hesitate. My fingers gripped
the small worn blue leather
copy of the book that was
something precious, something
perhaps even better than
It was a friendship which I
had been and must be
grateful for." "I squared my shoulders,
saluted and held out the
to the woman, even though
while I spoke, I felt choked
by the bitterness of my
disappointment. 'I'm
Lieutenant John
Blanchard, and you must be
Miss Maynell. I am so glad
you could meet me. May I take
to dinner?'" "The woman's
face broadened
into a tolerant smile.
'I don't know what this is about, son.' she answered,
'but the young lady in the
green suit who just went by
begged me to wear this rose
on my coat. She said if you
were to ask me out to dinner,
I should tell you that she is
waiting for you in the big
restaurant across the street.
She said it was some kind
of test!'" It's not difficult to
and admire Miss Maynell's
wisdom. The true nature of
a heart is seen in it's
response to the unattractive. "Tell me whom you love,"
Houssaye wrote,
"and I will tell you who you


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