One– You were a chubby ten year-old and your mom made sure to have her assistant bring you imported candies and a rose stem.
Two– Starting to blossom at twelve, the boy on the 3rd row took notice, gave you a rose each day before the fourteenth.
Three– Just a highschool freshman when a messenger comes barging in the ladies’ bathroom with a bouquet of roses and a note asking you out to Junior’s prom.
Four– You were sixteen expecting nothing when your ex visits your classroom and hands you a Hershey bar with a note of apology for not getting you anything the year before.
Five– You were seventeen and you gave the boy you liked a red pringle and a kiss on the cheek while he gave you a rose and a set of rules.
Six– You were eighteen when the boy who loved you crashed his car and broke your heart.
You were eighteen when the boy you kissed told a lie and made you cry.
You were eighteen and a stranger walks into your P.E class carrying a bouquet of roses for a date. In the evening out with friends, a new friend in the city brings you ice cream and asks for your love.
Seven- You were nineteen, out at a rock concert, missing a call from the boy who made you cry.
You were nineteen when a girl kissed you and you kissed her back. The morning after all the dancing and alcohol, her lover arrives bringing flowers and you all shake hands and laugh.
Eight, Nine, Ten– Years pass but you don’t wonder why he never bothers.
Eleven– You’re twenty-three having dinner with his family.
Twelve– You’re twenty-four, and you don’t know if you’ll stay or go.
Thirteen– You’re twenty-five and you wonder if you’re past your prime, if anyone’s ever going to love you as much as you have loved. Will they like the real you? Your laugh, your dorky antics, your chubby cheeks, double chin, and muffin top?
You wonder if you will ever find anyone with that seamless connection, a familiarity, a sense of ease, a love that transcends time and space. And if you do, would you now be wise enough to recognize that kind of love and jump?