In the beginning I spotted you. Was it because we were in the same place at precisely the same time? There had to be more to it than that. Something about you was different. Something about you caught my attention. Was it your kind eyes, or the happiness you seemed to carry with you like a bouquet of flowers–perhaps it was.
It could have ended there; two people who shared a glance. But it didn’t. I reached out with a polite word, or two, and you responded. We engaged in conversation, nothing profound. Did time seem to lose its meaning for an instant? Did we make a connection–it seemed unlikely.
In the days that followed we encountered each another several times. Was it a coincidence, or did we run in the same social circles? It’s funny I never noticed you before–I found that interesting.
I so curious to know more about you. Something about you mattered to me. It felt rewarding knowing I mattered to you. I trusted you. I let you see the real me, not the polite pasted on version of me I used to impress others. You had a way of drawing out the essence of me. Our two separate life stories began to overlap. We were–friends.
As time went on, I felt at home being with you. Home was now–us.