THE LILAC TREE BY FIONA CUMMINGS (TRUE STORY)

It was Moscow 1982. I was a fourteen year old trapped in the body and mind of a 23 year old. I had fallen in love with a Moscovite.

He was very tall, slim, and blonde with the eyes of sapphire, with the stare of steel.

He had the looks of perfection. The way in how he walked, talked and even wore his clothes, made me delighted and proud to be with him.

I fell in love with his appearance, his magic in how he could make me feel.

I knew he could have and probably had, every girl in Moscow and beyond, if not for the iron curtain preventing him from leaving the former U.S.S.R

I had the normal sensations of the love bug. The trembling knees, the butterflies, the need to be with him, to touch him, to kiss him.

It was our first date. We went to Red square and watched the changing of the guards.

He spoke no English at all so my broken Russian had to be used. Broken in the respect that I could not speek in a manner to what I was accustomed to. He had me a jibbering wreck.

His smile, the look in his eyes.

He modelled, and he knew he was a dream to girls.

We went to dinner in a wonderful Georgian restaurant. The first dance was dedicated to the English girl. I looked around, to see who else was English, to see that everyone was looking in my direction, some with smiles on their faces, to welcome the English girl to their country. Some holding champagne glasses in toast to me.

I looked at my boyfriend, he took my hand and we danced to the live song from the band. “Feelings!”

Well, the words in that song,

“I wished Ide never met you girl.

For sure came true as some years later, we were separated in the most cruel way.

In the meanwhile, we didn’t know our future destiny or how much we were both going to be hurt.

After our dance, my boyfriend kissed my hand and led me back to our table, where we finished off our romantic meal.

Then we walked back to my hotel, where my Mum was staying. He took me along an   avenue of trees. There was a beautiful lilac tree over a fence, in a garden.

Well, the next thing I knew, he climbed over the fence and returned with a huge posy of lilac. He put some in my hair, we laughed, and he kissed my cheek and pressed the rest of the stunning fragrant bouquet into the palm of my hand.

So I also fell in love with the lilac tree, because of the fragrance, look of the bloom and how happy I was made to feel in my early years of a sad life.

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