We met when I was in 2nd grade...I was 7 years old. It was a brief meeting, after school one day and I didn't get to know much about him, but I loved him.
As 6th grader, I met him again through a mutual friend...it was an awful time in my life. My parents were going through very difficult financial times. We had moved to an area of the country where I was a minority for the first time in my life and I was picked on a lot because of it. It was scary to walk to and from school because of the teasing and threats and rock-throwing. It was at that meeting I think I knew we'd always be together...I started writing to him almost every day and he was so good to keep in close touch with me.
Through all the changes of my growing up years and beyond, he's stayed close and cared so sweetly, attentively. Even through periods where I ignored him, when he ended up last on my list, he's been there.
Most of the time I don't feel like an old person, but as I type I realize we've been together for forty years now. Only an old person can write that! Through the movement of the seasons, his careful, deliberate attachment has spoiled me. I am safe in uncertain times. When it's dark, he draws me even closer. Though I've known him all these years, there is always more to know, more to love, more to have of him...and I think maybe more of me to give.