The polish man and my mother
I have a Polish story, and here's how it goes:
My mother met a Polish man once. He was living in another part of the country, yet came here for business allot. She fell deeply in love with him, and he loved her. He was such a kind, gentle man, and a gentleman at that. He had no children, only one little dog that he always brought with him. He adored me and my older brother. My mother continued seeing him for several years. She urged him to move here so they could be closer. He claimed to not be able to move here, for unknown reasons that he said he would someday tell her. She would get mad at him over it and not talk to him for like a week or two. Meanwhile she received phonecalls, where someone would just not say anything at the other end, and then hang up. He confessed that it was him calling just to hear her voice. One day she broke it off for good, and said she would never speak to him again, because he would never come here to be with her and wouldn't tell her why.
About 3 years after the final break up, she is now married to a Turk., and still receives mysterious phonecalls with knowone at the other end of the line. She told me the other day that he, the Polish man, is her "soul mate", and that she still loves him. She also told me this entire story the other day. I remember him well. I never really knew why things didn't work out between them until now. All I knew is that she cried and was in a bad mood allot around the time he stopped coming around.
She said she will probably never see him again. Sad story about a Polish man and an American woman.....huh.
(the story of her and my father's break up is even more sad than that.....but that's a whole other story that I won't get into)
