That is why now my memories of her are so bittersweet. Tainted with regret from what might have been, if only I could have understood what my heart was telling me. Yet pure with the knowledge that without ever realizing it she taught me what love was.

Our relationship remains forever poised at that hyper-real moment when love for another first knots your stomach and binds your heart tight.

It is frozen now at the moment that she rested her hand on mine, gently let her fingers run over my knuckles and smiled a soft inscrutable smile. Time suddenly slowed and my heart pounded in my ears like I was listening to the roar of a great ocean. I heard the sirens' call luring me into deep uncharted waters but I remained locked within myself.

That afternoon was our last time together before exams and then, after the summer, University. It was a time of goodbyes and although I didn't realize it then, that moment would be mine. We were friends and on the outside that's how it would always remain, but for me it was and had become something more. My life, however, was moving on and I couldn't press the pause button to give myself time to work out what this latest twist meant.

It was only later, when I had left for University, that I realized that I loved Kathryn. I had never loved before and often wondered whether love would find me or if I should try to seek it out. I overanalyzed, procrastinated, and never listened to my heart when a chance presented itself ... but instead always let my head talk me out of taking a chance. I was scared and never realized it at the time.

Now with hindsight and experience I can trace how I came to that moment and I understand what those strange contradictory feelings had meant. By then, it was too late to have done anything about it. I had moved away without her ever knowing I had fallen for her.

Perhaps that's why we have a first love which seems so different from all that succeed it, to let us feel one pure love so we may know it when it comes again. It remains with us when age dims all other recollections. There may be stronger, more enduring loves in our lives, but without a first love to open our eyes to what is possible no other love could exist.

I often wonder what might have been between me and Kathryn. Through her I discovered

Lamberti's advice from 1893, from Vocal Wisdom, trans. William Earl Brown

"There has never been so much enthusiasm for the singing art, nor have there been so many students and teachers as of late years....

Certain teachers are mainly at fault in that they take advantage of the inexperience of pupils, to the disadvantage of the art of the song....

The foundation of all vocal study lies in the control of the breath....
It is possible to end phrases and cadenzas so that there will be a residue of air in the lungs. It is a great mistake to end a phrase with collapsed lungs....

It is desirable for a student to follow certain hygienic principles."

---from "Preventing the Decadence of the Art of Singing"

Some of this is funny. I'm pulling random sentences that feel somehow connected to poetry.Is it wrong to feel godly? I'm especially interested in the physiology. It is a great mistake to end a phrase with collapsed lungs. What burns (literally, collapsed lungs do burn) us about a "killer" ending may not be the best way to preserve the energy needed for the next piece. Maybe that's why I'm so averse to endings. (Though "You must change your life" does rock pretty hard.)

Rilke: Rocks, but doesn't burn. Is the "burning" what "sentimentality" is? Is it a fire that won't go out, to use a common metaphor?

Some fires that won't go out are OK, though.... But, I think, breath is better. The religious implications here could be elaborated on for pages. And have been.

And then collapsed lungs feel flaccid. I guess the goal is to press just hard enough, without pressing at all.

I'm going to continue trying to relate singing to poetry, using Lamperti as a model. This lung thing is just beginning. Never mind word choice for now. For now.