life is passing through me

I received the following email late last night. The subject line of the message was simply "hello", and even though I was sure it was most likely spam, curiosity got the better of me so I decided to open it anyway:

"I hope i do not intrude here and step over the boundary. I think about you at times and wonder how life is passing through you, been a long time. But if no reply, I would wish that you are well and still perspicacious and show that smile... Tom from 2001"

My immediate reaction: "yup, I was right...spam". Followed by a momentary flash of ego: "hmm... Tom... from 2001... where was I in 2001? Did I meet someone named Tom in 2001?" And then: "perspicacious? is that a real word?" A quick hop over to Dictionary.com gave me the following:

per·spi·ca·cious ( P ) Pronunciation Key (pûrsp-kshs) adj.
Having or showing penetrating mental discernment; clear-sighted. See Synonyms at shrewd.

And then a little more ego (like when you're reading a horoscope, and even though you don't -really- believe in such things, the description just seems to fit): "wow.....I think *I* have penetrating mental discernment..." (heheh) and of course anyone who knows me knows that I have "that smile". *grin* By this time I was completely amusing myself (and yes, I was certain that this is -not- someone who knows me, in case you're wondering). His email address was a Yahoo address, complete with first-initial, last-name, followed by a two-digit number...and even though the text of the email reads as if it were originally written in another language and then computer-translated to English, I decided to look him up on Yahoo, to see if there might be a real profile out there. Alas, there was not (not that I would have contacted him anyway), although a quick Google vanity-search did turn up a name or two, associated oddly with a couple of horticulture sites. My mind can romanticize just about anything, so as I logged off for the night, I drifted off to sleep with thoughts of Tom, this solitary stranger, toiling away the wee hours in his rose garden, longing to make contact with a special someone from his past, and sadly never knowing that the letter had not reached its intended recipient.

And perhaps a small secret wish that the letter really was intended for me... :)