Falling in a thousand moments

They met

They met in kindergarten, as all little kids do. Holding hands on the rug, playdates, getting married at recess. Playful shouts of "I love you," too young to know what those words meant. What they would mean later.

Growing up, they were always together. Joint birthday parties, jumping through sprinklers, group projects. She always ended up doing all the work. They paired off still, every time. They were seated next to each other in every class, their names far apart in the alphabet but something still setting them right next to each other, as if that was where they belonged.

They were teased, as children are. "Is she your girlfriend?" "Do you like him?" But she would always laugh and look at the floor, oblivious to him flushing pink and glancing, just for a second, in her direction.

Youthful playdates turned into phone calls late at night, to sad smiles and smeared mascara, carefully fixed by the next day. To words forced down time and time again, because it wasn't right, not now. Smiles glancing across their faces like sunlight when they passed in the halls, always moving in two different directions.

Years pass and they're in a gym covered in lights and love. A flower on her wrist from someone else. She twirls, laughing, as he gazes over the shoulder of his date to watch. He talks to her at the side table, and calls her beautiful. After all this time, she still smiles and looks down.

Two letters in the mail with a promise of a future for each of them, two lines that lead to the same point, the same end. From playdates to facetimes to all-nighters in dorm rooms, her head resting on his shoulder. Her presence is a tether, but her being there, next to him, is the gravity that makes it possible.

All-nighters turn into parties, into caps and gowns and internships, and study groups turn into dates, dinners alone and meeting her parents and staring at the sunset, together. He says "I love you," and it's real. She says it back without hesitating.

Later, they'll go visit her parents, where they grew up, where they met. And then, in that place, near the playground they were married in, she'll get down into one knee and ask him to marry her. Tell him the world has been hard on her, but she forgave the world the day she met him. He'll say yes.

They met in kindergarten, and maybe even then they knew.