If love had come to me in the middle of ninth grade, I would have said he was well-toned from all of those hours spent at the gym after school.
He would have dimpled cheeks that were so deep they might’ve once been scars.
He would know about the upcoming indie band tours and create covers of their songs on his electric guitar.
HIs hair would be dark, his fringe swept over his left eye. His orbs were of a rare emerald and were strikingly beautiful in contrast to the muddy freckles that painted his face.
He wouldn’t notice me. Not just yet. But he would smile as if to greet me when I walked through the classroom door. He didn’t know me yet, but I knew him.
If love had come to me now, I would be angry with my ninth grade self.
Love did not have well-toned muscles. He only went to the gym a week before my sister would arrive for Christmas—because she was the only one who needed to be impressed.
Love was scrawny-looking and pale. He has a missing tooth because of a biking accident and it is seen in every picture we take together. I think it is priceless. He thinks so too.
Love only knows of the Top 20 current hits. Every once in a while, he surprises me with a drunken rendition of ‘Can you feel the love tonight’, to back himself on his well-studied love for Elton John. I don’t think he is the original artist.
Love does not have freckles. Or dark hair. Or green eyes like emeralds. But he has the most beautiful blonde, curly hair that is usually drawn into a bun because the fringe always gets in the way. He has dark eyes—darker than death. But I have never seen such dark eyes that have so much light in them.
Love still didn’t notice me straight away. But when he did, he made sure I knew. He smiles at me every time I walk by, to greet me. And he knows me well. Love is my best friend. He knows me intimately, and that seems to scare everyone else away.
Love still laughs during the inappropriate moments, in the middle of a fight, while I have a good cry. But he laughs while he holds me. And there is nothing more important than feeling safe. He makes me feel safe. And I hope, I make him feel safe.
Love frees me from all the weights that often nail me to the ground. He also makes a good cup of hot chocolate—especially when it rains. God, he is beautiful.
Love is the person who you will let down but will invariably come back and continue to care for you, anyway.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
