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Love At First Smile
Copyright 2014 Christina M. Guerrero
DEDICATION
Yes.
STORY BEHIND THE STORY
Browsing among books, and suddenly crying.
NOTES ABOUT DRAFT TWO
There is more to say. Figuring out how to say it.
I cry every time I edit this.
It ends rather abruptly. Having this problem with these first and second drafts.
I gaped at the book in surprise, staring like an idiot, then let the tears fall.
The strange little book asserted that the concept of love at first sight --
feeling instant attraction and extreme fondness for someone based on making eye contact for the first time --
could be explained mathematically.
At that, I felt tears in my eyes and on my face.
For a long moment I barely moved or breathed as I went back in time ... back ... back ... trying to pinpoint the precise time that we actually made eye contact.
It wasn’t the first time we met. Or the next time. Or the next, when he was so preoccupied that I excused myself and walked away.
There was quick eye contact the next few times. But nothing extended. It was always quick.
I remembered an odd day when I could not stop staring at his skin. I was hypnotized. There seemed to be some secret embedded in his cells that I needed to figure out. On that day, I did my best not to prolong my gazes. I think I did an okay job. I remember both of us not quite making eye contact, despite my fascination.
But then ...
Tears came forth.
I remembered a day ... that day when I caught him smiling.
I remembered coming to a complete stop and staring at him.
And thinking ... My gosh. O my gosh.
He caught me. He stared back.
The world slowed down.
All I knew was his face. He looked as serious as I felt, despite his smile. In fact, he may have been as stunned as I was.
Somewhere, deep within the language-producing neurons and sections of my brain, words struggled to form.
They went something like this: “Him ... It’s HIM! ... So handsome ... So incredibly ... totally ... him.”
Handsome? I’m not sure that was the right word. Not ‘attractive’ or ‘appealing’ or those kinds of words. It was more than that. It was more than appearance. It was just ... HIM. He was the one.
I felt guilty for a moment. Anything that had happened before him had been utter immaturity and selfishness on my part. THIS was what I should have been waiting for. I knew, almost from the beginning of my life: what to look for, what would happen, what he would look like. He would look like HIM. I hated myself for not waiting for him and recognizing him sooner ... because he even came with foreshadowing many years before I met him, a vision experienced while I was enduring intense physical pain, and several variations of "here he comes" not too long before we crossed paths for what appeared to be the first time.
So much goes into the appreciation of a loved one’s face: the deep regard for every line, every shadow. Every freckle and every birthmark. Every single hair, and every single square inch of a beloved’s eyes, nose, and mouth. Every muscle movement: a feeling of responsibility when an eyebrow arches or straightens; a sense of peace when joy is displayed. And the reverence ... it goes beyond the physical. It is the soul behind the face, directing the marriage of bones and muscles and tendons, and smiles and frowns and funny expressions.
When I saw his smile, I had many thoughts, and among them: a belief that we had been searching for each other for centuries. And even if I turned and never saw him again until another time or another place or another universe, I would eventually recognize him by his smile, and by his soul behind it.
But there was no need to fear that. We had more than just a few moments. Not enough time, but more than moments.
Things were different after that smile for both of us.
He blushed a lot and stared sometimes and gradually made his feelings known. I found myself gradually and thoroughly preoccupied with him. I said and thought often, “I wish my world could be all him, all the time.”
It’s been that way since then, every day, even now ... even now ... up to and since his death ... he has been on my mind.
He was on my mind as I picked up the strange little book and read the short chapter about the algorithms behind love at first sight, written with a skeptical choice of words.
But I was not skeptical.
Before discovering the book, I had already examined, in depth, the first time we had met, and knew I had found him at least fascinating and strangely familiar that day.
It was not quite love at first sight.
No.
I remember when I saw my future in his eyes.
I knew he would become my world when I caught him smiling.
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