from like to loke

(an explanation on courier moments here)

The language of loke

from like to loke part 1

I am sitting on a table underneath the marquee with one of my most best friends. The air has been hot and sticky this year at convention but it has cooled enough for us to enjoy some time scoping the field of strapping men in front of us. We are chatting away. Rach and I. Laughing and smiling and pointing out who we think is cute, and of course, who we think is not.


Thats one of the things I have always loved about that girl. We have had the same goals, the same loves since we first became great friends in high school.

Rach, Milla & I.
Convention 2008 - 2009

At this point in our lives, the goal ? To snag a strapping lad and have him sweep us off our feet of course! Ever the romantics.


Her sister is talking to a guy who grabs my attention. I ask her if she knows who he is. She tells me they served in the same area on their missions. I am interested. We don't know his name, but I'll never forget the jealousy I felt as her sister chatted away to him.


She seemed to always find it so easy to make friends, to talk and be interesting. I thought I'd never feel at ease in groups of strangers. Never squash the anxiety that always rose when I was talking with people who I didn't know or sometimes even with people I did.


We continued to survey the room and I chose not to worry too much about what others thought of me, or worse what I thought of myself. I chose to just enjoy the week.

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On Sunday after the meeting we all went to the hall for a buffet style lunch. I was sitting on the stage with a group of friends. We'd been chatting away with each other, I turned to Rach again and it was like we'd been thinking the same thing. If we wanted to meet new friends then we would need to make ourselves available.


We excused ourselves from the large group we were in and decided to take a walk. We were chatting and walking around the hall but I didn't see him. I didn't see THAT guy.


{later I find out, this round of the hall is when he see's me for the first time. And thinks "she's all right"}

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The next time I see him we are placed in groups. As Collette & I walk towards our would be group my breath catches in my throat. HE is in our group. I just about died. Should I have worn a different outfit? I squashed the thought from my mind and convinced myself that I would not care. I would not worry, I would be myself and have fun.

That is exactly what I tried to do, for about 2 minutes before he turned to where Collette & I stood and spoke briefly to us... or was it to me? I couldn't help but feel the conversation was directed at me. Like usual, however, I cowered on the inside panic rising and hid behind Collette's quick and whitty respones. Conversation seemed to always come easily to her as well. Nodding my head occasionally I felt like I was holding my breath for hours before we started to move.

Then we were off on our adventure around Adelaide and I quite forgot my anxiety. His name, was Kyle.


During the day one of our activities (the one pictured below) meant I squeezed myself into a tight spot between two logs.

On the way out I grazed the inside of my wrist.

Kyle came over, and said something like "give me your arm"

Which is a strange request from an almost stranger. I stood for a second, contemplating the request. He said " don't you trust me? give me your arm"

So I did. He took my hand palm up and kissed the graze on the inside of my wrist.

He looked up at me with his long lashes and said "better?"

I just about melted all over the pavement.

Just for that split second there was no one else on that Adelaide street except me and him. 

Him and I.

In that moment he had me - hook, line and sinker.

read part two here