Was It You Or The Love At First Sight?

As soon as my eyes fell upon you, I knew.

It had nothing to do with the cautious grin that curled your lips or the way your eyes darted across the room. It wasn't because of anything particularly remarkable about you, but rather the impression you gave me—an emotion I was unable to put my finger on, but which somehow made its home in my heart.

Love didn't strike immediately. Like, I've always had my doubts about it. The blossoming of love is a gradual process; it does not happen overnight. But my sensations weren't sluggish. Neither was love—at least not at this stage. It felt like old ground.

Meeting you again? As if that weren't enough. Your appearance, voice, and mere existence seemed to have always been a part of my life. Perhaps in an unremembered dream or a life before. It could have been the way you carried a piece of me that I didn't know was gone.

Love wasn't involved, but you were.

Some things about being acquainted don't make a fuss. The sensation is similar to entering a room you've never been in before yet having an instant familiarity with its layout. The fabric is smooth and worn, just the way you want it—it's like sliding into an old sweater. Why does it seem right? You don't question it. You simply have to admit that it does.

You were that to me. A soothing assurance. A stable presence amidst the mayhem of an always rotating universe.

Even though I was clueless as to what was ahead, I did know that it was you.

I'm going to pick you.

Perhaps forever, tomorrow, or the day after that. You will always be the one who makes me feel at home, no matter how far apart our lives go or how divergent our paths take us.