Vagabond Multilingual Journal Spring 2014 | Page 28

If Love Has Been
It is funny. I did not fall in love. I think, I grew in love with Rose. Some love fades away
some like ghosts haunts us.
One evening, a group of boys and girls from Messiah College came for church services
at the Mission. The Mission was a house for runaway children. I was a runaway and also
helping some children who were on the run.
I liked that evening. I was sitting alone in the corner, when across from me, a girl met
my glance. She stepped forward towards me, with a smile. “Hi there…my name is Rose,”
she said in greeting as she sat next to me. “How are you? How long have you been here?”

“Just ignore me would you, what do you want to know? I..I’m a vagabond,” I said
silently to myself. Then, “Hmm, why should I care?”
With friendly glance, she smiled at me again, “Don’t you think someone cares, where
you are from..?”

“I’m from my mother. I do not know anymore whether the love I get from good
people is just an act of pity or not.”

Rose raised up her eyebrows, “Well, I know that, we all do--”

“I grew up in Western Europe…” My words trailed off, my eyes becoming vacant. I
looked at her defiantly, at the same time, I wanted to create joy. “I’ll be OK someday. I like
to be alone. It is comfortable.”

Without looking up, “My father was born in East Germany. My mother was born
in West Germany, and…” She paused reaching for words.

“Are you from Germany too?” I asked.

“No, I am from New Jersey,” she bestowed on me one of her candid smiles.

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