We are often told that the eyes are the window to the soul, but just how much do they let us see? The importance of eye contact cannot be overlooked, since gazing at someone can irrevocably change the course of someone's life. There is a puzzling action that follows eye contact, as some describe it akin to a surge of electricity pulsing through one's veins, proclaiming it to be a very dangerous thing. But, oh so lovely. The eyes speak more than the mouth is willing to say.
My love, can I let you in on a little secret? My time here has recently permitted me to observe the culture and the importance of not simply looking at someone, but rather creating eye contact, in a reverential way of communicating that I am listening to you and I am focusing all my attention on you. You would always tell me that it's not enough to just look at you, but to see you. I want to recall everything that went on, everything that I was thinking when I first laid eyes on you. When we first locked eyes. But first, I have to tell you that the first time I saw you wasn't that brisk October afternoon, but it was a warm Spring day in April. However, using your language, I first saw you in October, while I merely noticed you in April. But, my, you certainly made an impression on me. It is remarkable how a beautiful young woman wearing a red skirt, lace top, and sandals can imprint so profusely in my mind. Your long wavy hair blowing in the wind, the aroma of your perfume lingering in the air...I nearly stopped to take it all in. You were walking from the other end of campus with a big smile on your face. I remember that because I couldn't grasp how anyone could look so beautiful smiling. It was infectious; your smile tempted my mouth to curl and grin because you made it look so nice, so natural, so lovely. Your hair got caught in your mouth and you tried your best to make it look like it wasn't a big deal. You shook your head and flipped your hair, the sunlight radiating off your chocolate brown hair. The light waves cascading on your warm shoulders. As our paths nearly intersected, you kept your head down, glancing at something while you walked. Then, just as I made my way to you, you looked up and locked eyes with me. The intensity of your gaze nearly raptured my disguised coolness. The warm combination of green and brown hues in your eyes was impeccably mixed to create a gentle hazel color. You kept your gaze on me as we walked past each other, curling a strand of hair behind your ear. Then you looked down again. I wondered what was going on through you mind at that present moment. Did you notice anything about me? Did you notice me at all? Did you think about me after that? I surely thought about you since then. I long wondered who you were, whether I'd see you, and hoping that our paths would cross again. I wondered if it was possible for time to stand still. It was only a mere seconds of looking at you and you looking at me, but I felt that an eternity had passed before we finally broke eye contact. I couldn't fathom the way your gaze did not wither or search for my eyes. You looked as if you were staring at the depths of my soul. I told myself that should I see you again, I would talk to that pretty girl...and that fateful October day came...I still remember every detail about you the first time I saw you, from the way you chuckled quietly to yourself about something you were thinking, the way your outfit perfectly matched, and how unpretentious you looked as you were walking through a cobble-stone sidewalk among fields of green. Your image remained etched in my mind until I finally saw you again. My heart beat just as quickly as it did when I first saw you. I'm always thinking of you, my beautiful beloved. I'm looking forward to when I'll see you again with my eyes rather than staring at your pictures in my journal. I love you. I'll be coming home soon.