― Rumi
I met her in fourth year university and it was an unlikely relationship from the start.
For some reason I took a course called Rumi: Mysticism and Poetry, and like the proverbial Road Less Travelled, that made all the difference.
I don't know why I went out of my comfort zone—perhaps, something was missing from my life—but for the rest of that semester, things never seemed quite right.
It was a misty, drizzly spring and the air was filled with the bitter scent of budding leaves. Everywhere I turned there was a green haze of Maple branches glazed with rain above the streets.
It was intoxicating and I spent my lunch hours wandering down Philosophers Walk or meandering through Queen's Park.
I was restless, for what or whom I had no idea, but my whims matched the weather's moods, and that was reason enough for me.
And the madness of the spring seemed to affect the staid Professor Khan because he suggested a collaborative project that would amount to half our mark.
We chose topics and were paired with classmates of similar tastes, and that's how I ended up with Abi Mir, a muslim girl I barely knew.
l felt it was a mistake—many of the other muslim girls were westernized, but Abi still wore the niquab, and seemed out of place.
Still, I resolved to push aside my reservations and give the collaboration a try.
But I suspected I'd be pulling most of the weight.
"We need to meet outside of class, so where do you think would be a good place?"
I wanted her to feel comfortable and had no idea what the rules were for her working together with men.
"I often work in the small library on the second floor of Hart House," she suggested.
I loved that room, especially the wood fireplace and the comfortable leather chairs.
We arranged to meet each day at noon and have a working lunch.
It was the first time I noticed her huge eyes and lovely oval face.
That night, I lay awake watching the full Moon through my window and thinking how its gentle curve reminded me of Abi's cheek.
But I put the thought out of my mind almost immediately, because we were from different worlds and different Faiths.
Each day we met in the library and discussed Rumi's poetry, and as we did I felt I was challenging boundaries within myself.
I began to discover it was my soul I was seeking, or as Rumi put it, what you seek, is seeking you.
I began to love the soft whisper of Abi's voice and how gentle and elegant she was compared to the other girls.
But all too soon, the collaboration ended and we wrote the final assignments and the course was over as well
The next few weeks were bleak and barren. I missed my lunches with Abi and the soft spring fragrance that always lingered in the room after she left.
One spring night I went to Kensington Market not far from the university to listen to some jazz, and then afterwards sipped coffee on the outdoor patio of a cafe.
It was a lovely night and the air was fragrant.
A familiar scent filled me with longing for what or whom I had no idea, but my whim matched the weather's moods, and that seemed significant.
"Hello, Rience."
I heard a woman's voice behind me and turned and saw Abi, standing on the sidewalk, shyly smiling.
"Abi!" My heart leapt with sudden joy.
"I saw you sitting alone. Would you like me to join you?"
"Please do, " I said, standing and offering her a chair.
And it was only when she was seated beside me I realized what I had been missing.
What I needed was right before me...
my secret garden, my private spring