I was always one to fall in love quickly. I never thought someone could love me faster.
One year ago today, I sat down in my seat near the back of the bus with my heavy backpack and camera bag covering my feet. My navy coat was slightly too small to keep buttoned when I sat. My hair was uncombed and unstyled, which was why I chose to wear a hat that was too trendy and youthful for my age. I was also sick with strep throat and had lost my voice.
Two or three stops later, a young man in a dark, thick flannel shirt sat across from me. He had sandy tufts of hair poking from underneath a backwards, tan-coloured military-style cap. His face was rough with thick stubble matching his hair. He looked as weary as I was.
He put his ear buds in and closed his eyes. Then
he looked up.
His eyes were kind.
I know his eyes were kind because he caught me staring at him, and rather than looking away he half-smiled. I looked away apologetically, but his eyes said I didn't need to. So without a verbal invitation, I glanced at the man again. It didn't last long and I stared down at my phone, too bashful to peak again.
The crowd on the bus grew larger, nearly reaching capacity, I'm sure. People were standing from the front door to the back seats. A man in his 50s sitting
nearby stood up, for reasons I do not know, blocking my view of the man across the aisle. I was relieved I didn't have to pretend I wasn't gawking at him once a minute. The older man started talking loudly on
his phone, which was followed by failed attempts to close the opened emergency exit on
the ceiling.
I ignored the man and scrolled through Twitter on my phone when I heard a loud
bang.
The human wall had finally shut the emergency exit, startling everyone at the back of the bus,
including myself and the man with the kind eyes. We both looked up and our
gaze caught for a while before he smirked and rolled his eyes at the older gentleman. I looked down sheepishly.
My stop was next and I didn't think I would see the young man again. I gathered my heavy bags,
heaved them onto my sore shoulders and made my way toward the door. An arm stretched out in front of me, the hand attached to it holding a piece of paper folded to the size of a toonie. The hand belonged to the man sitting
across from me. I felt my eyebrows furrow in confusion.
Extending his arm further and looking at my eyes, the man convinced me this was no mistake. The note was for me. I hesitantly took it and walked off the bus straight into the entrance of my apartment building. I unfolded the paper. In faint pencil, a phone
number had been written in the corner. After five minutes of debating whether or not I should message the stranger, I did.
A lot has happened since that day. I fell in love all too quickly. I found a face with a smile that brings out a new life in me. I've found acceptance in another person in a world that has always judged. I found out there was a spirit just as (if not more) kind behind the kind eyes.
James and I are now engaged. Our love for each other grew fast and viciously, and continues to. We may have known each other for a short time, but through that time I have grown confident I want to spend the rest of my life beside my fellow passenger.
