I was lost. But, this is not to say I was afraid. I found myself in a grove teeming with old souls and memories. The atmosphere was thick with peace and sadness, wisdom and truth, and even a touch of joy. The burning sky of dusk broke through the canopy, setting branches and blades of grass alight. There was a sublime magical glow emanating from the deep green and black.
I could see it, but with more than just my eyes. My soul could see it. My soul saw and felt all the life pulsating all around me in exquisite detail: the strange color and movements of snails and slugs; the fluttering intentions of moths; the fleeting gleam of fireflies; the deep emerald grass taking its time; the old trees in subtle shades listening and whispering.
I was lost in the magic and whimsical wisdom. And those eyes. A pair of beautiful blue eyes reflected to me. They were deep as the ocean, old as oaks yet infused with youth and vigor, tired and yet still full of fight. But more than that, I could see clearly in those eyes a kind of melancholy that is only an affliction of old souls like mine, and a spark of hope peeking out from behind it. They were curious eyes, and I suspected they hid a capability that for so long I thought was myth.
It startled me the moment I realized those eyes were not disembodied; they were not a part of a soul long gone but imprinted in this spot. He slowly crept out from the darkness of the grove, this corporeal man. I did not know at the time, but he had seen himself in me just as I had seen myself in him. We stood, two old souls in the same strange wonderland, reflections of each other; like two sides of a mirror.
I knew I would love him. I was terrified, but I knew I would love him. And I knew he would love me. Love. Such a versatile word. There are different kinds of love, and the greatest deepest one of all I thought was an imaginary state of being; until I faced my other broken half, and knew that we would love each other.
He let down his wall before I did. He knew what we were, and he knew he must show me before I could stop being afraid. He took my hand gently and pulled me close to him.
“Our future is already written, my love,” he whispered softly in my ear. I knew he would keep me safe. I knew he scouted the path before I got there. We were two broken pieces, but he found me, and now we were whole. He gripped my hand firmly, and into the grove we went. Finally, we both knew that kind of love so elusive that fairy tales had been built around it.