This is a love story !!

[OG_Girl]

This is a Love stroy that i thought i should share it with you,some one told me and i want to pass ... u know how much i hate long posts but this one worth to read , believe me :

 

== THE WALLET ==

 

As I walked home one cold day, I stumbled on a wallet someone had lost

in the street. I picked it up and looked inside to find some identification so I

could call the owner. But the wallet contained only three dollars and a crumpled

letter that looked as if it had been in there for years.

 

The envelope was worn and the only thing that was legible on it was the return

address. I started to open the letter, hoping to find some clue. Then I saw the

dateline--1950. The letter had been written almost sixty years ago.

 

It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting on powder blue stationery with

a little flower in the left-hand corner. It was a "Dear Honey" letter that told the

recipient, whose name appeared to be Faarah, that the writer could not see him

any more because her mother forbade it. Even so, she wrote that she would

always love him.

 

It was signed, Haleema.

 

It was a beautiful letter, but there was no way except for the name Faarah, that

the owner could be identified. Maybe if I called information, the operator could

find a phone listing for the address on the envelope.

 

"Operator," I began, "this is an unusual request. I'm trying to find the owner

of a wallet that I found. Is there anyway you can tell me if there is a phone

number for an address that was on an envelope in the wallet?"

 

She suggested I speak with her supervisor, who hesitated for a moment then said,

"Well, there is a phone listing at that address, but I can't give you the number."

She said, as a courtesy, she would call that number, explain my story and would

ask them if they wanted her to connect me. I waited a few minutes and then she

was back on the line. "I have a party who will speak with you."

 

I asked the woman on the other end of the line if she knew anyone by the name

of Haleema. She gasped, "Oh! We bought this house from a family who had a

daughter named Haleema. But that was 30 years ago!"

 

"Would you know where that family could be located now?" I asked.

 

"I remember that Haleema had to place her mother in a nursing home some years

ago," the woman said. "Maybe if you got in touch with them they might be able

to track down the daughter."

 

She gave me the name of the nursing home and I called the number. They told

me the old lady had passed away some years ago but they did have a phone

number for where they thought the daughter might be living.

 

I thanked them and phoned. The woman who answered explained that Haleema

herself was now living in a nursing home.

 

This whole thing was $tupid , I thought to myself. Why was I making such a

big deal over finding the owner of a wallet that had only three dollars and a

letter that was almost 60 years old?

 

Nevertheless, I called the nursing home in which Haleema was supposed to

be living and the man who answered the phone told me, "Yes, Haleema is

staying with us."

 

Even though it was already 10 p.m., I asked if I could come by to see her.

 

"Well," he said hesitatingly, "if you want to take a chance, she might be in

the day room watching television."

 

I thanked him and drove over to the nursing home. The night nurse and a

guard greeted me at the door. We went up to the third floor of the large

building.

 

In the day room, the nurse introduced me to Haleema.

 

She was a sweet, silver-haired old timer with a warm smile and a twinkle

in her eye.

 

I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter. The second she

saw the powder blue envelope with that little flower on the left, she took a

deep breath and said, "Young man, this letter was the last contact I

ever had with Faarah."

 

She looked away for a moment deep in thought and then said softly, "I loved

him very much. But I was only 16 at the time and my mother felt I was too

young. Oh, he was so handsome. He looked like the King."

 

"Yes," she continued. "Faarah Jama was a wonderful person. If you should

find him, tell him I think of him often. And," she hesitated for a moment, almost

biting her lip, "tell him I still love him. You know," she said smiling as tears

began to well up in her eyes, "I never did marry. I guess no one ever matched up

to Faarah...."

 

I thanked Haleema and said goodbye. I took the elevator to the first floor

and as I stood by the door, the guard there asked, "Was the old lady able to

help you?"

 

I told him she had given me a lead. "At least I have a last name. But I think

I'll let it go for a while. I spent almost the whole day trying to find the

owner of this wallet."

 

I had taken out the wallet, which was a simple brown leather case with red

lacing on the side. When the guard saw it, he said, "Hey, wait a minute!

 

That's Mr. Jama's wallet. I'd know it anywhere with that right red

lacing. He's always losing that wallet. I must have found it in the halls at

least three times."

 

"Who's Mr. Jama?" I asked as my hand began to shake.

 

"He's one of the old timers on the 8th floor. That's Faarah Jama's

wallet for sure. He must have lost it on one of his walks."

 

I thanked the guard and quickly ran back to the nurse's office. I told her

what the guard had said. We went back to the elevator and got on. I prayed

that Mr. Jama would be up.

 

On the eighth floor, the floor nurse said, "I think he's still in the day

room. He likes to read at night. He's a darling old man."

 

We went to the only room that had any lights on and there was a man reading

a book. The nurse went over to him and asked if he had lost his wallet.

 

Mr. Jama looked up with surprise, put his hand in his back pocket and said,

"Oh, it is missing!"

 

"This kind gentleman found a wallet and we wondered if it could be yours?"

 

I handed Mr. Jama the wallet and the second he saw it, he smiled with

relief and said, "Yes, that's it! It must have dropped out of my pocket this

afternoon. I want to give you a reward."

 

"No, thank you," I said. "But I have to tell you something. I read the

letter in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet."

 

The smile on his face suddenly disappeared. "You read that letter?"

 

"Not only did I read it, I think I know where Haleema is."

 

He suddenly grew pale. "Haleema? You know where she is? How is she? Is she

still as pretty as she was? Please, please tell me," he begged.

 

"She's fine...just as pretty as when you knew her." I said softly.

 

The old man smiled with anticipation and asked, "Could you tell me where she

is? I want to call her tomorrow." He grabbed my hand and said, "You know

something, mister, I was so in love with that girl that when that letter came,

my life literally ended. I never married. I guess I've always loved her."

 

"Mr. Jama," I said, "Come with me."

 

We took the elevator down to the third floor. The hallways were darkened and

only one or two little night-lights lit our way to the day room where Haleema

was sitting alone watching the television. The nurse walked over to her.

 

"Haleema," she said softly, pointing to Faarah, who was waiting with me in

the doorway. "Do you know this man?"

 

She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment, but didn't say a word.

 

Faarahl said softly, almost in a whisper, "Haleema, it's Faarahl. Do you

remember me?"

 

She gasped, "Faarahl! I don't believe it! Faarahl! It's you! My Faarah!" He

walked slowly towards her and they embraced. The nurse and I left with tears

streaming down our faces.

 

"See," I said. "See how the Good Lord works! If it's meant to be, it will be."

 

About three weeks later I got a call at my office from the nursing home.

 

"Can you break away on Sunday to attend a wedding? Faarah and Haleema are

going to tie the knot!"

 

It was a beautiful wedding with all the people at the nursing home dressed

up to join in the celebration. Haleema wore a light pink dress and looked

beautiful. Faarahl wore a dark blue suit and stood tall. They made me their

best man.

 

The hospital gave them their own room and if you ever wanted to see a

76-year-old bride and a 79-year-old groom acting like two teenagers, you had

to see this couple.

 

A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60 years.

 

I hope you liked it .

 

thanx

 

salaam

[LuCkY]

Wow that is a beautifuL story...thnx for sharing og_girL.

[OG_Girl]

Thanx sister , i am glad that u like it

salaam

[Xafsa]

Faarax jama? and Haliimo? in a nursing home? 76 yr old woman in a pink dress?

[OG_Girl]

lol flying still , i was crying ,when he told me that pink dress i laughed ...........lol

 

salaam

[Changed]

thanks Og girl interesting story...

 

it cant be a somali story : halimo and farax being in a nusring home and her mom dying in a nursing home , love lettertoo kinky to be SOMALIS aint it :confused: ..but i loved the story though

[Lois Lane]

excellent story ......I really liked it

 

thx OG_girl

[Miskiin-Macruuf-Aqiyaar]

Salaan...

 

Originally posted by flying-still:

Faarax jama? and Haliimo? in a nursing home? 76 yr old woman in a pink dress?

Xafsa, LoL. You bought that story, didn't you? A Faarax Jaamac living in a nursing home {koow}; supposedly living in a Western country about a half-century ago {lama}.

 

Aww, suspicion may arise then.

 

Some people don't even bother to change the slightest plotlines to any story to make them more persuasive and credible. But why bother, they say, when they can change the names and holla, here you can read it by the name of Hanna, not Xaliimo. And forget about Faarax, but Michael.

 

I must admit, though, that it was a nice story, neatly written piece, but Faarax Jaamac in a nursing home??

 

Anyway, dankis for sharing, and don't get mad, will you?

________________

 

Soon Wanaagsan.

[Captivating_SouL]

Awww that was a adorable story....almost made me pull out the napkinz....as said b4 thanx for posting it.

 

salamz

[WeSTCoAST_MoMa]

LOvELY stORY OG gURL..

[Blessed]

MMA qarxis not nice..!!

 

It was a nice story anyway...