We knew that we only had eight more weeks until I graduated and he finished his sophomore year. We started dating anyway, and it was perfect. We tried not to discuss the future, trying to live as in-the-moment as possible. We knew that once I graduated, he would be headed back to his home on the west coast for the summer and I would be in Boston. Once he got back to school on the east coast, I would be headed out west for at least the next few years. Anyway we spun it we were looking at at least 2 years of long distance. We decided to take the plunge together.
I visited him in his hometown that first summer. One rainy day we went to the local Art Gallery. We skeptically entered this dark room with what seemed like a bunch of junk just lying around. There were old lamps, books, and dolls. A retro record player was blaring the sound of a man talking to a woman. The whole exhibit was scary and I just wanted to get out of there as soon as I could. As we were nearing the end of the room, he noticed an old mailbox labeled “wish box.” There was a pad of paper and a pen with instructions to write down a wish and place it in the box. He sat down and contemplated for a while, neither of us speaking a word. Then without hesitation he started writing in big block letters words that I’ve never forgotten.
That space and time will be of little importance.
