I'll Find You Again

I was around eleven years old when I decided you were out there. I couldn’t envision your face, your voice, or your body, but I knew exactly what your mind was like. You were creative. You were determined and brave. You were brilliant. That seemed like enough for me to recognize you.

I had to meet you.

You see, I was alone. I’d always been alone even when I was suffocating from the people crowding me. I knew I was different. I prayed that I wasn’t evil. Thankfully, I was stubborn enough to reject any sort of malicious fate down my path. I started working on solutions. I crafted scripts, strategies, contingencies, personas, stories, and regimens. I dug into my studies in as many fields as I could find to try and find an answer; to find a new possibility.

I was looking for you the whole time. Which was incredibly daunting as I only knew the type of person you were and not who you were. I thought I found you several times. Age 12, I thought you had golden hair. Age 14, I thought you had sun-kissed skin. Age 16, I thought you were famous. Age 18, I thought you were a classmate.

I tried to ignore the statistics and facts bombarding my brain. We could be on different continents. You might have only been born a few years ago. I might have already met you without recognizing. There could be too many people in the world for me to search through to finally find you. I just kept looking. I climbed over mountains. I walked through fire. I survived the depths of the ocean. I fought Demons around every corner.

My path led me to a dark, cold cavern. There was no light, no sound, and no life. In my haste, I’d ignored the obviously collapsing entryway and trapped myself inside. There was no way out. I felt this strange tranquility when looking doom in the eye. There was peace knowing I’d finally failed. I hadn’t solved the problems. I hadn’t found you. At least, in that empty abyss, I could rest.

By some long overdue grace of reality, someone heard me in the cave and tossed me a pickaxe. It was the first tool I’d ever had on my journey. I set myself back on task; find you. First, I broke through the walls of the cave. Second, I gathered more tools to aid my search. Third, I expanded my search internationally. I could no longer ignore those statistics.

The time I’d spent in the cave took its toll on me, so I carried its consequences onward. My bones ached, my hands and feet were covered in callous, and my eyes looked hollow. It was hard to breathe from the dust still sitting in my lungs. But I was still alive, so I kept looking.

You were on stage when I first saw you. Granted, I was just one among the crowd of people vying for your attention. Plus, I was paying more attention to your partner on stage.

You called out to me.

You invited me backstage after the show.

You were so overwhelming.

You bested me in a field I’d never been bested in before. You were confident. You were funny. You were intimidating.

After we parted ways for the night, I was too stunned to realize who you were. But you called out to me again. And again. And again. You kept your promises. You listened. You were fun, delightful, exuberant! I won’t forget the moment I finally recognized who you were. I got to experience incredible ecstasy for a time before realizing my old wounds were affecting you.

You told me to leave, so I lost you.

It was a new kind of pain to know loss instead of the lack I was used to. During our time apart, I learned, I healed, I grew. I finally shed the stubbornness that took me this far on my journey and learned to give up. I finally stopped looking for you and ended up finding myself. You answered when I called to you. But you didn’t see me the way you did before. I was still me but different. Different enough.

So, I gave up, and started looking for you again.

I managed to find some amazing people. I got to experience all kinds of new adventures. I went through several whirlwinds of misery. Throughout it all, you were right beside me. All those people I met; I knew they weren’t You.

They weren’t smart like You.

They weren’t brave like You.

They weren’t challenging like You.

They weren’t strong like You.

Certainly, many were smart, brave, challenging, and strong. But not like You are. You are a relentless goof, an anxious wreck, and a brilliant soul. You are a glimpse of perfection, a beautiful work in progress, and a calming vision. You are a teacher, a leader, and a student. I’m lucky. I know I’m lucky.

You are wonderful.

So don’t worry if we ever become separated.

I’ll find You again.