Between First and Last
We had math together sophomore year. That was the first time I got to know him slightly beyond his existence.
2 rows behind, 1 seat to the right. He sat closer to the windows. The optimistic fall breeze was as much of a blessing as the winter cold that crept through was a curse. But never the less he insisted upon sitting by the large 3 by 4 window.
Everyone called me "Zoe." He said "Zoya."
But that was when we actually talked. Usually words weren't needed. Simple tensed brows or drooping eyes were enough.
We weren't the best of friends or anything. A silent relationship.
We simply coexisted in the world we shared, and had a decent understanding in the world we each individually owned.
Senior year. Going off to college. We were bound to meet other people. This silent romance, one that never knew a beginning, had come to an end. And on the day of graduation, we parted with our first and last kiss.
And it was safe to say it was love, well the closest thing an 18-year-old knew of love anyways. The first love.
Letting go is a part of life, it's especially hard when it's the first, but I assure you I wouldn't regret a single silent moment we shared.
But love isn't a once in a lifetime event. Life was too long to spend years without the blessing of love in your life.
Yes, I would always fondly remember him, seeing him for the last time at the crowded graduation. His messy fluff and dorky glasses would always be souvenirs of my past.
It's his memory, rather than him, that will always be with me. He was the emblem of my first encounter with this miracle called "love."
Whenever I'd confront the Polish delight "Prince Polo", his name would pass by.
Marek Krawsowsky.
But today, I was happily married to the man I loved, Mr. Akdu Ahmed Khan. But Marek was forever a part of my life, as a beautiful memory.
***
Short little drabble that most of you will not like this. But I felt this was extremely necessary for me to get out right now.
The first is not always the last, despite the fact that the thought is extremely romanticized. And there's nothing wrong it, but if it doesn't end up being your last, than it wasn't meant to be your last.
Relationships are memories. There is always one that didn't work out, and you don't wish otherwise either, but it was the one that among the rest would always be with you. It was special in a way none of the others would ever be, not because of love, but because of the emotions and memories that were attached to it.
That is all, I don't know, I've been really philosophical in the last few days. I need help lol.
-Shweta
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