Swear You Won't Forget

"We were new then, our lives stretched out before us. 

For this very short time, it would be just the two of us  [...]" 

— Bridget Asher

Hey you.

Goodness. It hasn't been quiet around here lately. It seems like every day is filled to overflowing with to do lists and little ones who need us. Sometimes, I almost forget how we began.

But do you remember the times before? You were there in the desert, learning to sleep to the sound of explosions outside. I was here in Chambana, sitting behind a desk in a doctor's office. And we wrote. And we missed. And no one we knew understood how it was possible to fall in love that quickly. And we hoped with the greatest of hopes.

Back before there was spit up on my shoulder, or a little girl pulling your hand to lead you somewhere important, there was us. And we flirted, did wild things, and made big plans. We drove fast on gravel roads in the country, the tires kicking up a long trail of white dust behind us. We walked down city sidewalks in fancy clothes underneath glittering stars. We got married without even having enough money to spend the night in a hotel in town, so I sprinkled rose petals around our apartment. We always bumped into each other in that tiny galley kitchen with pots hanging on the walls, pretending we both knew how to cook. We climbed the thousand, steep steps to our apartment late at night, and sometimes after a few drinks that made us a little wobbly. You made me laugh and worry and cry and beam, and gave me butterflies during every minute of it.

Please don't forget me then. Don't forget how blonde my hair was, or the heels I wore but could never look confident in when I walked. Don't forget the times we stayed up talking until 2am, then stopped to dish out bowls of ice cream before talking even more. Don't forget the way we always held hands, always touched, never wanting to be apart for a minute. And if I really did make you nervous like you said I did, don't forget that either.

Because I won't forget the you from those days. I'll always remember the boy who slipped the silver ring off my finger and wore it all the way back to Afghanistan. The boy who swore he'd never marry but told his mom he'd be marrying me after the first time we met. The boy who I loved more than anyone I'd loved before.

Deep down, I'm still her. You're still him. We still have that love in our hands. It's the kind of love that only comes once in a lifetime for most people, but a lifetime is how long it'll last if we let it.