The Definition of Us”

We met in college

me, a teeny bopper with a head full of books and dreams dressed in Vogue,

him, a lover of all things grown with vinyl in his veins

and streetwear stitched into his soul.

He asked to borrow my dictionary.

I said yes.

He asked again.

Still yes.

By day three I thought, “This boy needs to buy his own damn dictionary.”

But really,

he was looking for the right word

to ask for my number.

He finally did.

We went on one date.

Romance didn’t bloom

or maybe I was too shy to water it.

But something else grew.

Something steady.

Something true.

And now,

two decades later,

I sit across from him

older, softer, wiser

and I smile.

Because maybe that missed spark back then

was the universe’s way of protecting

the flame we’d actually need.

When my father passed, he held me up.

When his grandfather passed, I did the same.

Through heartbreaks and hard days,

when

as he says

life be lifin’,

we showed up for each other.

No masks. No pretending.

He’s watched me bloom into this woman

bold, bruised, but still beautiful.

And I’ve seen him become a man

steady, soulful, and so damn handsome.

This moment right here

no candles, no fancy setting

just two friends

breaking bread,

laughing with full hearts,

is everything.

Real friendship.

The kind where I get to be 100% me,

and he gets to be exactly who he is.

No edits. No performance.

If you looked up friend in that old dictionary,

you’d find something close to what we have.

But even Webster ain’t got the words for this.

And maybe that’s the beauty of it.