what love is...

We messaged all night long. An enthusiastic volley of curious conversation. Bonding over absent parents, music and our favourite flowers, we decided to meet.

I saw you outside through the bus window. I didn’t know you were you yet, it’s hard to tell from a Tinder profile.

You said hello. We got coffee, chatted about our lives, walked along the canal’s curved banks. A drizzle began to fall, so I took out my umbrella.

You said: “I have the same umbrella!” I didn’t believe you.

When we crossed the bridge, our hands found each other and gentley intertwined. Your fingers were so smooth.... At the market you tried to kiss me, but we headbutted instead.

We met up again and again. Late night bike rides, living room concerts, fresh sourdough bread in slices so thick it got stuck in the toaster sometimes. Wine, pastries, and laughter. A weekly habit, a bright spot in my days. Sharing our dreams and troubles in near-constant-conversation. Our relationship persisted, our lives began to intertwine. You sent me a picture of your umbrella. “I’ve had it as long as I remember,” you said. I stared at the image, a sort of rueful amazement came over me. It was identical to my own.

I bought my umbrella when I was 12 years old. $5 from Goodwill. Its unique design is one of the few constants in my life. A dark blue canopy covered in faded golden tulips. Flowers swirling, shielding me from stormy skys. It survives 3 other broken umbrellas.

I’m sure many more of this umbrella’s design must exist, but that didn't matter. To me it was a crazy moment. A moment where an umbrella design became a symbol of fate.

“We match,” I said softly to myself.

There was a feeling of fulfillment, of justification.

That this is what love is,

finding meaning in the coincidences shared between us,

believing in that meaning,

making it true,

because I love you.

(I should have told you before)