An appointment that was never made

There were two more people walking in front of him. As they passed the passage towards the forest he felt at ease and made his way into the forest himself. He walked up the stairs as it happened to be a bit above the usual ground and once again he was looking at the beautiful autumn scene. Leaves falling off the trees, the path covered with a golden color. He enjoyed the shiverings of leaves down his feet as he walked along the path. It was windy that day. Hearing the sound of a gentle wind playing with the leaves he remembered his village. It was quite a similar sound, although not the same, to what he used to hear walking across the fields in his home village. This forest was the closest he could get to nature, to his home while he was in here. There came yet another stairs leading up but he chose the regular, although steep, pathway. He was a village-boy afterall - you don’t get stairs to go up every hill there.

He now saw the swing he was going for, though the view was still obstructed by a Korean-style outdoor bench. He couldn’t see who was sitting on the swing. More precisely, he could not yet see whether she came to the place of an appointment. He wanted her to be here waiting for him so that he could go and talk to her sincerely as he used to. On the other hand, he knew that she could not be sitting on that swing - she went to the other side of the planet afterall. As he continued walking hoping that the swing reveals the answer he remembered his previous attempts.

He had been here just like that several times. Each time he reached the swing an air of disappointment used to conquer him. Each time he came here he found not her but himself taking a seat on the swing, all alone. At this moment he was almost sure it would still be the same. The problem is that he was not entirely sure - he knew it was impossible, unless by a miracle, to find her waiting for him there, yet he still hoped for that. This little hope he had was the only remaining reason holding him on to her. He used to like the saying of an Uzbek writer which goes like this:

Ishonch yo’qolsa, orzu qoladi.
Orzu yo’qolsa, umid qoladi.
Umid yo’qolsa, ilinj qoladi.
Ilinj yo’qolsa… Hech nima qolmaydi…

O’tkir Hoshimov, Daftar hoshiyasidagi bitiklar

It roughly translates to:

When the belief is gone, a dream remains.
When the dream is gone, a hope remains.
When the hope is gone, a lingering remains.
When the lingering is gone… Nothing remains…

He had hope. He hoped to find her on that swing, the swing that appeared to be moving giving him a power to hope - making him hold on even stronger. He made the long-awaited step - the swing became fully visible now. He could now see whether she came to the appointment. This moment, the last moment of revealing an answer to a question lingered in his mind, finally came. It made him feel a sudden burst of emotion and he stopped. He felt disappointed once again. The swing was empty. She didn’t come to the appointment.

In fact, that appointment to which he came for was never made, just like the previous ones. Yet he knows, he is sure as his name, that he will walk the same path towards the same swing later again.

He still has the same hope remaining.