I found the one whom my soul loves.
I found him in a coffee shop over two years ago and he held my hand as I jumped in puddles. I found his eyes softening like butter when he gazed in awe at my freckles as the raindrops jealously kissed my face. I found his hand held onto mine despite the sweat that dared to slide between us in the 90 degree heat.
I found him when he laid next to me in the autumn leaves and held me against the on-coming chill. I found him when we stared in the flames of a bonfire and reveled in the comfort of the silence between us. I found him when he pulled his hat over his ears and buried his face in my hair to share the precious warmth.
I found him when he kissed my forehead to break the bonds of sleep – only to present a steaming mug of clarity (some call it coffee) as we watched the sunrise over the pier. I found him when we had a splash war in the water, and although he grabbed and threatened to dunk me, I never doubted that I was safe in the arms of my lifeguard.
The days turned to weeks, and the weeks tumbled into months, and the months stumbled into years and I waited to see if he could still be found.The baby face melted away into the chiseled cheekbones of a man. Depending on the day, the contacts would materialize into glasses. The peach fuzz of boyhood toughened into reddish bristles, neatly trimmed to frame the lips that still spoke words as warm as his embrace.
Then one day, I found him again.
I found him on one knee in the summer grass where the leaves had once laid with us in a blanket of color. I found myself blinded with the glint of a diamond while his hands shook in time with the beating of my heart.
And in that moment, I couldn’t find him.
When my eyes recovered, there he was.
A new title, a little older, a little more scared of the unknowns ahead, a little more excited too. And a little more mine. I found him.
But what I didn’t realize, is that he found me.