The girl on the Aitutaki road

This is one of a series of letters from the public to someone special in their lives.

INEVER knew your name but 23 years later I still picture you on that road. It was early morning on Aitutaki, Cook Islands, with the rising sun warming the day.

We were the only ones on the road at that hour.

You walked slowly towards me, head bent, feet dragging along the sandy road, a sleeping bag draped over your arm.

Tall, dark-haired, attractive, you seemed unaware of me and the beautiful surroundings – the intense blue of the lagoon glimpsed through the palm trees and lush green undergrowth.

I said good morning but you ignored the greeting.

Aitutaki is a very small island where people greet each other when they meet and you feel that everyone is your friend. I knew something was wrong. I paused, hoping to catch your eye as you passed but you did not meet my gaze.

Puzzled, I turned to watch as you walked on, the sleeping bag trailing, surely uncomfortable to carry like that in the warm sunshine.

My instinct was to go after you, ask what was wrong, could I help? But then caution took over. Would I be interfering? Would my attention be unwelcome? I dithered there in the middle of the road until you went out of sight around the bend.

I was troubled as I resumed my walk.

Later that day I was told that you were indeed distressed and had walked off the reef into deep water.

Fortunately you were rescued and were recovering well in hospital.

The island people were very upset that a visitor to their island had been so distressed and no-one had realised it.

I felt a greater burden of regret because I had realised and had not responded.

To this day you gently haunt me.

I carry this everlasting regret that I failed you when you needed a friend.

Now, whenever I feel someone needs help I think of you and tell myself: ‘‘You can ask and they can say ‘no’ if they do not need it.’’

I do not want to fail someone else.

I am sorry, Girl on the Aitutaki Road, that I did not help you that day.

I don’t ask forgiveness because I can’t forgive myself.

I hope you received the support you needed and have found happiness now.

Do you have a letter you have always wanted to write to someone but never did? If you would like to finally write that letter and have it published in

Summer pages, please email it to bess.manson@fairfaxmedia.co.nz. or send it to A Letter To . . . Bess Manson, Features dept, The Dominion Post, PO Box 3740, Wellington 6140. Names may be withheld at the writer’s request.