Nora Ephron Would Be Smiling

How long does it take to fall in love?

For Emily Lee, it was approximately 55 seconds. Now, dear reader, don’t assume Emily was one of those types who believed in this kind of “love at first sight.” In fact, she wasn’t. She was simply one of many people who fall prey to the winds of early autumn. The winds that carry so much power, few can resist their charms.

It was a crisp autumn day in New York City, the kind of weather that just feels hopeful. The wind was moving red and yellow leaves in a swirl and the sun was shining through the trees, as Emily observed from a bench in Central Park. She took a deep breath and held her warm coffee cup a little closer. Bikers, joggers, and walkers passed by. Nearby, people picnicked and played sports, and tourists wandered aimlessly with smiles on their faces. Emily pulled her novel out of her bag and settled further into the bench, hugging her cozy sweater further around her. “What a perfect day,” she thought to herself. Emily was determined to heal her broken heart this month. No, she wasn’t dumped. No, she hadn’t broken up with someone. Emily was still healing from the ache of loosing her father last year. Her “forever Valentine.” The man she compared every other man to. How would anyone ever be as good as him? Or understand her like he did? Emily pondered these questions, as she often did, while she opened her book and read a few sentences before rolling her eyes. “Oh come on, “love at first sight”? Gimme a break. That’s not even possible.” The sun reflected on her watch, reminding her to set a twenty minute timer so she wouldn’t be late for work.

Suddenly, without warning, a biker lost his balance and fell right in front of the bench where she was sitting. Shocked, Emily jumped to her feet to see if they were hurt. “Oh my god! Are you ok?” The biker slowly sat up, took off his helmet, and looked up at her, replying, “I think I’m fine!” And that was when it happened. You can call it whatever you like, dear reader, be it fireworks, chemistry, or a “meet-cute,” but Emily only knew that had never seen any color as rich as the blue in this man’s eyes. They reminded her of her father’s. The biker stood to his feet and put out his hand. “Hi, I’m Tom. Thanks for checking on me.” He smiled and Emily thought she was instantly transported to a Nora Ephron movie set. The wind gently blew her hair in front of her face and the leaves felt like they were swirling around her in slow motion as she struggled to remember her name. “‘Em…Emily. I’m Emily. I’m glad you’re ok.” She looked down at her watch and noticed not even a full minute had gone by since setting her timer. 55 seconds, to be exact.

And that, dear reader, is both how our story begins and also how it ends. Because, just like in the movies, we know what happens next.