Love?

Sara swayed her head when she played the piano. That usually meant that nothing could disturb her now. It also meant she was going to cry in the next 15 minutes.

I was right there sitting next to her , looking at her face expectantly with a quiet but an understanding smirk , waiting for all this to start.

It was the kind of a day you wouldn't want to miss. The weather was just "Sara" perfect and the clouds were not annoyingly strewn across the sky. "Sara" perfect was not easy to achieve. It would have to be sunny with a chill wind blowing on your face.

It blew Sara's wine coloured hair on her face , against the face that was laughing and on her teeth that shone brightly against the sun.

It was that warm fuzzy feeling you had when had your fill on a warm thanksgiving dinner and had nothing much on your to-do list the next week.

The feeling when you gaze at Sara's fingers tapping vigorously on the piano. Or her doe shaped eyes or her perfectly crooked nose.

"I am tired, Robin!", she started as she finished playing Bach for the last time. "All I want to do is play this thing all day or sleep".

"You can do both all day , Sara. Just that, you need breaks to get back your energy" I said as I hobbled on to the refridgerator to get some canned milkshakes.

Sara was adamant she had only milkshakes for food , the past three days. "Juice Diet is the newest fad!" , she added when I tried to cook some pancakes for lunch.

"If only I could stay here forever.." Sara trailed off and starting a light sniff.

I sighed and walked towards her.

Sara was not an average piano player. Her father was an alcoholic and had met me in an AA session. He would complain how his then - 7 year old daughter would stare at the TV when Bernard was playing the piano and pestered him to get what "that big fat man" tapping at.

I pitied him and asked to bring the girl to me the next time we met. That was 10 years ago.

It was not until last wednesday at about 4:20 in the morning when I realized Sara was more than a student to me and I was nearing 50 years.

She was beautiful and her life just started. I was hitting 50 next week.

Sara was looking at me expectantly when I was holding the milkshake and staring off into the space. I was hitting 50.

"You, okay?" , She tugged at my arm.