Something different I haven’t done in years, “Almost By Chance” is a reflective, memory-driven short story I’ve been writing since August and have been reworking as best I can. The idea’s been circling in my head for about a year, and after getting some inspiration, it’s better now than never to put it down on paper/ screen.

“Almost By Chance”

Freshman/ Sophomore Year

It felt like yesterday —finally finishing high school and graduating was a breath of fresh air. Even though it’ll feel weird not seeing my friends every day, going off to school in a new environment is a change I’ve needed. I had the same feelings as every other first-year student stepping into the college world, where it evokes both fear and confidence as you meet new people who might be strangers from different walks of life. What’s their backstory? What will make them want to know me, Matthew Campbell? What made them decide to study their chosen major here? The campus was easy to manage, as I only had to go from two to three classrooms a day and then return to my dorm. I focused on navigating everything without drawing attention to myself or leaving behind all my self-conscious thoughts. 

One of my favorite classes was Speech Communication, which was a required course. Most of the other students in there were a grade or two above me, which I couldn’t have guessed at the time. But this was a time in my life when I didn’t know it, but I was sharing the same space as a girl in the same class —a psychology major/theater minor who was a year above me named Sarah Charlotte Jennings.

Did I notice her right away? Probably not. At the time, though, I didn’t know. I still remember the first time she ever talked to me. It’s funny how you can meet someone in the most unexpected places. It was on a Sunday afternoon at Walmart, where I was doing some quick shopping for the week and trying to figure out which adhesive would work best for my posters. Then, there was Sarah, casually walking down the aisle and I almost recognized her, which was a surprise. “Hey. You’re in Theo’s 11 a.m. class, right?” I asked. “Yeah, remind me of your name? she asked right back.

“Matthew. Or Matt.” She was there with her roommates, in a jean jacket and her hair in a ponytail. It was probably mid-September when she brought up my Star Wars speech from one of our assignments. I had thought it was just okay, but she said she enjoyed it. Sarah even suggested these grey square packs, which, to my surprise, worked. I took her advice, and as she left, she mentioned it was nice to meet me formally. I reciprocated the sentiment. I’m sure I’ll see her on Monday, but it’s the power of her recommendation and her unexpected positive feedback that lingered in my mind for the rest of the day. 

Later on, probably a week after fall break, we were paired for a small in-class project. I don’t get my sights set on someone right away to be my partner, and it’s because I was too shy. But, as luck would have it, Sarah was sitting at the end of the table behind me as she signaled to me. She asked if it was cool to work with her. “Sure, why not?” There was time to spare, and as it turned out, she lived in the same dorms as I, living on the girls’ side. I complimented her on her sweater, which reminded me I needed to pick up a new one before it gets cooler. But since we were done and had no clue what to say next, I asked her a random question to break the ice.

Later on, probably a week after fall break, we were paired for a small in-class project. I don’t get my sights set on someone right away to be my partner, and it’s because I was too shy. But, as luck would have it, Sarah was sitting at the end of the table behind me as she signaled to me. She asked if it was cool to work with her. “Sure, why not?” There was time to spare, and as it turned out, she lived in the same dorms as I, living on the girls’ side. I complimented her on her sweater, which reminded me that I needed to pick up a new one before it gets cooler. But since we were done and had no clue what to say next, I asked her a random question to break the ice.

“Hey, here’s a random question,” I said, breaking the silence. “If you could have dinner with three people, alive or dead, who would you pick?” Sarah’s answer, after a moment of contemplation, was interesting. “Let’s go, Paul McCartney, Meryl Streep, and whoever invented coffee.” Respect. 

“What say you?” said Sarah.

“Easy,” I replied, trying to keep the conversation light. “I got Muhammad Ali, Spielberg, and maybe Stephen King.” She smiled and told me, “Not too bad.” 

By the time the second half of the year rolls around, I’ve seen Sarah around at dorm dinners on Fridays, though I’m usually sitting with the guys. Sometimes I say hi to her in the Dining Commons when we’re putting our trays away or when we’re next to each other while in line for food. And when our coffee house had a karaoke night as part of a campus activity, I told myself to sit there with my friends and enjoy the night.

Then Sarah walked in with one of her roommates, maybe ten minutes after it started, which I figured she would be too cool to be there. Not that I noticed right away, but in an instant, I might not mind giving it a try. This was a spontaneous moment where I signed up as the ninth person, but there was no going back. I didn’t intend to sing after being in choir throughout high school, though it’s very different when it’s a small crowd rather than an auditorium.

I chose a song I knew by heart, a guaranteed classic for any karaoke enthusiast: “The Mixed Tape” by Jack’s Mannequin. It was always a song easy to memorize the lyrics, and it was probably a deep cut that not everybody knows at first, but I found myself thoroughly enjoying my time on the mic. As I glanced at Sarah, I saw her clapping along with the beat, grinning as if I belonged up there. When I finished, the crowd’s positive reaction wasn’t too bad. She leaned over to her friend, impressed with what I had to give.

However, I performed well in the second semester and felt a mix of excitement and nervousness about returning home. Everything was packed up in my car, and it so happened that Sarah was leaving for home on the same day. I was walking back to my dorm when I saw her pushing a bed cart with her belongings as we crossed paths. 

For a brief moment, it was the only chance to talk to her between now and the fall. And luckily, I had time to spare. I asked if she needed a hand, and she replied, “Sure, if you don’t mind pulling a hernia.” We loaded her belongings into the trunk of her Honda Civic and asked her how her year had gone. She asked me how my first year went before we asked each other about what we had planned for the summer.

She then asked if I would be in the same dorm again. “Hopefully,” I said. “That’s great. Because it’ll be cool to see more of you,” Sarah said. I felt a warm connection with her at that moment. We walked back inside, pushing back the cart in the lobby as we parted ways for a few months, realizing she’s somebody who won’t escape my mind. 

---

Sophomore/ Junior Year

The confidence I had going into my sophomore year was set in motion, as I knew what to expect from a typical year on campus. It was also when I turned 20; it was the right time to make some changes to feel more comfortable with who I am. I was in the same dorm and made some new friends on my floor and in my major. Balancing my role as a groundskeeper for two hours every other day with two to three classes a day was a challenge, but I was determined to maintain this balance. Surviving the first whole week of classes was, as expected, marked by the usual uncertainties about whether I had the right books and whether they would be worth the investment. 

Another year of Written Communication was intriguing enough to pique my interest in what’s so significant to learn that I didn’t know in the spring. Yet, it was about four minutes before class started as I walked inside, only to be taken aback by the sight of Sarah sitting across the room. Call it a coincidence? The universe was giving me a bone? It was a required class, so I probably didn’t think much about it. But to paraphrase Humphrey Bogart’s famous quote from Casablanca, “Of all the courses in all of campus in all the world, she walks into mine.

But when class ended, the flood of students spilled out—right in front of me, heading the same direction toward the dorms.

“Sarah,” I said as I caught up with her.  “Matt, hey. I didn’t know you were in this class, too. It’s been a while since we last talked, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I managed, adjusting the strap of my backpack. The walk back to the dorm was about two minutes from where we were.

She laughed, and the sound felt warmer than the sun. I asked her how her summer went, and she told me she had kept busy working with an engaging theater workshop. 

That sounded more fascinating than me mowing my lawn throughout July. But part of me couldn’t shake the thought that it meant something. That, for the second time since we’d met, the universe had nudged us into the same orbit, sharing these common experiences and uniting us in this moment.

As we walked toward the dorms, she asked me what year I was in to remind her. “Sophomore,” I said. “You’re a junior?” She responded, “You are correct, sir.” It was a simple exchange, but underneath it all, I felt the quiet spark — the sense this wasn’t another conversation, but the beginning of a shared journey.

By the time we reached the dorms and parted to the opposite sides to go about the rest of our day.

A week into the first semester back, some of us went mini golfing, and Sarah was with her friends, I with mine, having fun despite my game being so-so. Then, from a distance, there was something about her that hit me like a bolt of lightning. It was this nervous feeling I haven’t experienced since I’ve gone through the typical one-sided crushes like Cassidy and Maggie that went nowhere. Honestly, I was feeling shy. We were about to leave and hang out in the arcade when she passed by me, and we chatted for a minute. Sarah asked me if I had a good score, but I didn’t. She, on the other hand, managed to be in second. And then it hit me: Eyes are always the feature I notice first, and her blue eyes spoke to me. But in a spur-of-the-moment deal, I had to think of a way to hang out with her outside of class. 

Right as she was about to leave, the words were out before I realized. “You… maybe wanna grab breakfast with me tomorrow morning?” A dozen thoughts were running through my mind about what she would say. “Breakfast, huh? She was thinking for a few seconds when she responded, “I’d like that.”

Breakfast seemed like a weird move, but why couldn’t I take a chance? Though what if she’d only said yes to be nice? But then Sarah ended up meeting me at the dining commons at 11:30 after she came from the library that morning. We ended up in the corner booth, where we had a combination of what they served for breakfast and lunch. 

“So, how far away is home for you?” I asked her. “Not too far from here, Grand Rapids,” she smirked. “And if I recalled, you were right in Indy.” The memory with this one. Not only were our homes a state away, but both of us grew up with an older sister, and, strangely, our zodiac signs were Cancers, with our birthdays literally three days apart. Our conversation slid easily between us.

We talked for a while, and I found out we had the same taste in music. Nobody I knew shared an interest in Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and we couldn’t get enough of hearing “Heads Will Roll” when it first came out. 

In an instant, I became fascinated by her, asking why she wanted to study psychology and what her plans were after finishing school. “Well, I’ve always loved the theater since the seventh grade. But… during high school, I guess I was dealing with insecurities about myself, not wanting to talk to my parents or my friends about what I was going through.”

“I spent a lot of time with our school counselor after my dad died around four years ago. At first, I thought it was a waste of time. But the more times I went every week, that was when I discovered therapy has a way of healing me, as it dealt with my feelings, and I’ve had this inkling of helping people who are holding everything inside.” 

It was all in the honesty I truly believed. And I haven’t known her for long, but I can sense she’s good at seeing people. And how her love for theater came into play, she loves hearing about people’s stories. Psychology helps those living them, and she said she always imagined doing both.  

We talked for an hour, discovering slight overlaps in our personal lives, which unexpectedly sparked a connection I hadn’t felt before. When we finished, we walked back to the dorm together. But was the smoothest way to ask for her number? To ask her questions related to class? To my luck, she gave me her number. “So, you wanna do this again next week, or if our schedules sync during lunch?” I asked.

“Definitely,” she said. 

Shortly after, Sarah and I became fast friends, texting each other the most random and silly memes, as well as childhood memories that unlocked our brains. We would grab lunch when our schedules sync, and she’d visit my dorm a couple of times on Fridays when she doesn’t have rehearsals. I even talked her into watching Sing Street, and she took my recommendation to heart. Our friendship was so comfortable that I couldn’t make a move too soon, as it was all about being respectful. But sometimes it takes a few moments of unintentionally being vulnerable to realize they care.

It was a Friday in mid-November, as we were still recovering from the election, and we were hanging out in my room with Sarah, working on separate papers for class, when she noticed I was restless. It was also the morning after taking an exam; I didn’t think I had done well. Perhaps it was the transition into fall, but this happens to me every time I doubt my intelligence. She had an assignment for one of her psych classes and asked if I wanted to be interviewed about my experiences —how I saw myself, how I handle stress, etc.

“Why me?” I asked out of curiosity.

“Because you think before you answer,” she said. “And because you seem honest about yourself.”

Pretty simple questions she asked me, though I was nervous as to what would be brought up. What motivates. What do I value the most in this stage of life? Then she asked, “Do you ever feel misunderstood?”

I was fiddling with my right bracelet, recalling an aspect of my life I’d been fighting with when I was a teenager- having Asperger’s. Outside of my family and my closest friends, I haven’t told anyone this. So I told her, I don’t know why I felt ashamed mentioning it. “I was diagnosed somewhere during second grade when I asked my parents about it.” Believe me, finding the right words was more difficult than I thought. Part of me felt different than everyone else. But she didn’t say anything, as if she never could tell. Just listened.  

“You know I always tried my damnedest to fit in, but it seems like people hear it and automatically think I can’t connect, or that I’m cold. Just because I tend to stay quiet and be alone doesn’t mean I’m not trying to connect; it’s because I need the time to be with my thoughts. It’s like how I’m always fascinated by films, but I always feel as though it’s only interesting to me, not to everyone else. Other times, even I get tired of talking about them.” 

All of this was coming out, but it was a matter of thinking it’s all untrue. 

“I spent a lot of time asking myself if whatever I’m doing will ever be enough. Enough to get through school, find work to support myself. For…”, I faltered as I jestered my hand at Sarah.   

Right then, I regretted admitting this to her, pretending it was nothing. But she reached out, holding my right hand. “I’m sorry,” I said.

“Don’t apologize for anything,” Sarah told me. “Everybody sees things differently. You see things differently- and that’s something I admire about you.”

It could’ve been for pity to make me feel better. Instead, Sarah sees behind my eyes. As someone who sometimes has trouble making eye contact with some people, our eyes met, and I listened to what she was saying. “You will always be good enough. I know I haven’t known you since last year, I see who you are: Smart, kind man who belongs anywhere.” It was an unreal sense of relief for her to see only me and to question where she had been all her life. Her acceptance made me feel included, part of something bigger.

We were getting close. During the Christmas break, we Skyped a couple of times a week, trying to bridge the physical distance between us. My first thought with Sarah was whether this was the beginning of a real relationship. The first week back from break was a breeze, with the excitement of writing for our school’s newspaper. It was a mild Monday in early January, and I had finished working the grounds, when Sarah texted me: ‘Meet me downstairs in the library whenever you’re not busy?’  

She was sitting in one of the study rooms, her laptop open, when I walked in. We hadn’t seen each other in person since the break, and I could tell she had something on her mind. She looked up from her screen, a smile lighting up her face as she saw me.

“So, I’ve been thinking a lot while I was home,” she told me. “About what?” I asked. She hesitated, then laughed softly. “I told my mom about you when she asked me if I was seeing anyone. I almost wanted to say no. But then I realized… I couldn’t stop thinking of you.” Her vulnerability was palpable, and I found myself drawn to her even more.

Her words caught me off guard, and I could feel my cheeks warming. ‘You did? What did you say?’ I asked, a mix of curiosity and nervousness in my voice.

She glanced down like she was embarrassed to tell me, but she needed to get it out there. “About how you notice things most people don’t. Not the strange connection between us, but I realized I don’t think I’ve ever met a guy as nice or as understanding as you.” In that moment, I felt a deep sense of connection with her, knowing she saw me for who I truly was.

“What you’re saying is…,” I said simply. “I like you, Matt. Like, really like you, and I guess, what we have right now, feels like something more. And I don’t want to ignore it anymore.” 

“I guess it’s safe to say I’ve felt the same way for a while, but tried to keep it to myself so I wouldn’t step out of line with us.” Her smile was soft, warming my heart. And in that moment, I knew she meant what she said, sharing that first kiss on my cheek inside the study room. Right then, and even though we were still young, it was unreal to realize this relationship was the real deal.  

To prove this had to be real, Valentine’s Day was around the corner, a holiday I had already despised since seventh grade, when Amy didn’t want to go on a date with me, leaving me feeling absolutely embarrassed about myself. Luckily, we saw La La Land during our break and couldn’t stop thinking about it, agreeing to see it again once we’re back on campus. The second viewing was a significant moment for us; that Saturday after was free, and our eyes were glued to the screen. I caught myself sneaking a few glances at her in our empty row. And I wasn’t watching the movie anymore; I was watching her.

But if you’ve seen it and remember the all-too-real ending, trying to hide the tears was impossible. I glanced back at Sarah, but she wasn’t smiling, almost as if she too understood what the smile between Sebastian and Mia meant. 

Walking out into the rest of the afternoon, she asked me, “Did it get better the second time around or what?” 

“Absolutely,” I said. “But I confidently say it’s perfect, too?”

We talked in the car for 30 minutes after driving back to the dorms, the weight of our conversation sinking in with each passing moment. The movie we had just seen was a distant memory; she consumed my thoughts, but I was unable to articulate my feelings. She sensed my emotions, and a significant moment of realization dawned on us, leading to a profound silence that was broken only when I kissed her. 

It was the end of the school year. Finals were done, the Seniors were gearing up for graduation, and the campus was eerily quiet. I was getting ready to leave on a Thursday afternoon, with all my stuff packed and hanging in the area room. Then, Sarah’s text came in, “Wanna take a walk?” I didn’t need a second to think of it. We wandered around the campus, the warm air carrying a touch of coolness. It felt like we were the only ones there, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of secrecy, as if she was holding something back, something she wanted to share with me besides deciding what she wanted to write her thesis on until the winter.  

I wondered where we stood between now and a year from now, when she graduates. We planned to talk every other day, and she’ll visit me at home for a few days near the end of July. But what loomed for us next year? Finally, Sarah broke the silence after we sat down. 

“You know… It’s weird. Everything’s going to change next year,” she said. “But not everything”, I said. 

“You matter to me—more than anyone here. To think, as I hesitated admitting this, I almost considered transferring to another school. But something changed my mind and told me to stay.” Did it make me believe in destiny? Fate?

“You matter to me, too,” she told me quietly. I looked at her with her blue eyes, biting her lip, which gets me. How often do you feel as though you’ve found your match in your early 20s? In my head, it seemed all too unrealistic for someone like her to fall for me. Yet, I summoned all the courage I had and said, “I love you.” For a second, I almost regretted saying it right then. But, she said it back, and we shared a kiss under the moonlight, a moment where it felt like time had stopped. We weren’t afraid of what next year has to bring. 

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Junior/ Senior Year

Both of us were busy during the summer. Despite her internship in Human Resources and my part-time work at a record shop, we still found time to keep in constant touch through texts and FaceTime. But it was the little things I missed the most —the way she puts her hand on her cheek during a conversation, or her laugh. Her visit to my hometown, where she stayed for a few nights, was a significant moment that made me realize she was more than just a crush. The most significant step forward for us was the belated birthday gifts we gave to each other. She gave me a specialized journal while I gave her a bracelet.

At school, we felt optimistic about agreeing to have one class together next semester. But she met my mom for the second time after meeting her to help pack up my dorm, and it couldn’t have gone better. I introduced her to my best friend since high school, John, at the bar we started attending once we turned 21 during the summer. We spent a full three hours sharing stories and finding common ground in our experiences, from how we’ve never fully embraced the chaos of never witnessing a whole fight in school to Sarah’s obsession with collecting Playbills from every play or musical she saw when she was young. By the end of the night, it was the best feeling in the world where you’re girlfriend and friend like each other. 

Looking back on my junior year, it was really a true struggle early on. The regret of taking this science course, Botany and Zoology, made me believe with 100% certainty that I stood out like a sore thumb in the classroom and lab, and it’s true when they say General Psychology isn’t for everybody. And it’s not the cliché of having a girlfriend that is affecting my studies, but these were more challenging courses than I expected. The silver lining was hanging out with my friends in the evening, along with Sarah, when we had the chance to be alone. 

Near the end of September, on a cloudy afternoon, we hung out in my dorm with some Little Caesars. Senfield played in the background while I looked up articles for my boring geography class. Sarah knew she had seen me stressed out, and she knew this was not what I needed. “Is it December yet?” I joked and she laughed it off. She let it be silent for a moment, and asked me if I had any plans for fall break. She wanted me to drive down to Michigan with her. “You’re serious,” I said. “Of course,” she grinned. “You could really need the stress off your back… and an excuse to meet my mother, too.” She wasn’t wrong. Her offer was like a soothing balm to my frazzled nerves. 

Those nearly three hours on the road with her flew by, especially when we shared her mother’s life, from jamming to listening to every Yeah Yeah Yeahs album to my rendition of Foreigner’s “Juke Box Hero.” It was a meeting with your significant other’s parents, so I was in a nervous state of mind. But even Sarah reassured me she’ll enjoy my company.  Her mother, Gwendolyn, who was about a few months away from retiring from teaching, welcomed me, and I instantly gravitated to why their connection is so strong. My nature as an excellent guest was evident from the start, as I even offered to wash the dishes. The first night, Sarah and I spent hours in her basement until 2 a.m. She curled up with her, and in a moment of silence, as I was lost in her eyes, I felt the strongest sense of relief. It was a feeling only she could give me. How did I get so lucky with this woman? The next few days were spent walking through her neighborhood, meeting her friends, and exploring her old hangout spots from high school. It was like reliving the moments we shared when she visited me, but with the added intimacy of our first time together, which was built on trust and mutual understanding. 

We drove back to campus that Sunday afternoon. Both of us blissfully smitten, even more, we didn’t even get out of the car. When we arrived, we relaxed and talked, living in the moment, knowing I had waited for Sarah all my life. “I just,” I said with the shyness cadences I only could, “you’re always going to be easy to be around, what we had last night… There was no pretending; it was real.” Hearing me say that was harder than I imagined, but the level of intimacy had to be said aloud. “I’m definitely the same way,” she whispered as she locked hands with mine. 

But when there’s one aspect of my life going better than it should have, it goes downhill in the blink of an eye. Exactly a month later, my dad passed away, after my mom called me around nine in the evening. Hearing about a tragedy in my family for about a decade left me both confused and uncertain about how to react. The next morning, I didn’t want to leave my room or be around anybody. I kept it quiet with my friends, but I had to tell Sarah the next day during a late lunch since she was the most vulnerable to talk to when she lost her dad a few years back.

The most surreal thing was when my dad called me the last time; he asked me if I had caught the attention of any girls, and I remembered telling him about Sarah. She understood my sudden grief because she had been in the same place I was then. All she knew from what I was experiencing was that I didn’t have to go through it alone. How was I going to handle loss when I wasn’t near family? Even though she couldn’t attend the funeral, she bought flowers for my mother and took me to the diner near campus before heading home the day before Thanksgiving. 

With everything weighing me down this semester, my constant self-doubt was locked in my head. I couldn’t bring myself to write, as it’s pointless to care about what people think of what I have to say. I barely passed the two classes that brought my GPA down. Was this the earliest set of depression or something else? For some reason, I made a list of what went wrong with the past three months while I was alone in the Media Center and wanted to be out of my room for a while. But though we were states apart during the holidays, Sarah gave me the space to talk about my dad and avoid the clichés people say when they go through what I was dealing with. Again, it’s these moments of vulnerability that always make her real and help me know what I’m feeling is not broken. 

It couldn’t have been a better time to be at home for the holidays, spending time with family. However, the last time Sarah and I had time together was the Sunday night before campus closed. We agreed to only an hour in her dorm so we could exchange our gifts, which had to be special.

As Sarah unwrapped my gift, her reaction was priceless. A vinyl copy of the first Pretenders album. She was stunned. I remembered her mentioning that she and her sister used to listen to this when they were young, only to misplace it when they moved houses. When I worked at the record store, I knew this had to be a great gift, so I kept it in my closet. The look on her face was a mix of surprise and joy.

For a moment, she probably wasn’t expecting me to remember a small detail a little over a year ago. As someone with a good memory, I couldn’t forget. She had a tear in her eye, saying to me, “You don’t know what this means to me.” 

By the time the next and her last semester came around, the grief process was over, and having her presence gave me a reason to be bittersweet again. The course we agreed to take was a Shakespeare class every other day, and I had been enjoying spending time with my friends on and off campus. It’s these subtle changes I probably didn’t notice,  but she certainly did. I even tried on Valentine’s Day, as not only did I get carnations, but I also picked out an R2-D2 card the day before at Kroger, thanks to my nerdy background. It was a small, cute gesture, but it was filled with the sincerity of my feelings for her. Luckily, she laughed with this cute snort. “Honestly, this might be the best Valentine’s I’ve gotten.”

We’ve both been each other’s anchors, and even though I didn’t have anything going on for Easter, she invited me back to her home. But as she nears the end of college, Sarah’s the one on unsteady grounds. She talks to me, her roommates, and her guidance counselor about how she hadn’t landed an internship or hadn’t heard back from a few theater interviews. I saw her scared of disappointing her family or of regretting her degree. Despite these fears, Sarah’s courage in facing her struggles was genuinely inspiring. Honestly, I would’ve been in the same position, but knowing Sarah, she has a bright future ahead of her. 

The last week of classes before finals, our Shakespeare class took a field trip to Navy Pier in Chicago to watch a stage version of Macbeth. This was our last chance to be together before I leave for the summer, and we won’t see each other until August. We had an hour and a half to spare, so we walked around, grabbed a slice of pizza, and took a ride on the Ferris wheel on a warm late April night. 

The ferris wheel was our sanctuary, a place where we could escape the world’s rush and simply be together. As the wheel spun, we gazed out at the world. “Do you ever think about how time is moving quickly?” she asked, breaking the silence. “All the time,” I admitted, my gaze fixed on her. “But with you, I guess I want things to slow down,” Sarah mentioned. “If things had gone differently, like if we hadn’t met in class, we might not be where we are now.” I told her I wasn’t really expecting to be with someone, almost by chance. Our meeting was unexpected, but it led to something beautiful.

“I can’t imagine what the next few months will be like,” she said. “With leaving, who knows if earning my Master’s will mean anything, or if I even want it.” I told her it’ll mean everything to everyone. Including me, who doesn’t want to see her give up.

“Now I can’t imagine not seeing you every day,” I said, my voice filled with emotion. “I’m now scared of the future. But between us? Who knows. But we’ll figure it out.” 

“Not that I believe in the butterfly effect,” I said as I half-smiled. “But I guess the butterflies knew what they were doing, right?” As she slid closer to me to cuddle inside the car, “I guess they did,” Sarah said.

The thing I learned then and still do now is this: You yearn for someone to share in the laughter and grief, which will be cherished in your heart as you age. The shared experience of sitting through Macbeth, or finding comfort on her shoulder during the bus ride back to campus. 

Looking back now, it all could have gone differently. One small choice can easily shift into another reality with which we interact on a day-to-day basis. Not everyone finds the one that makes them feel the most alive. But, at this point, everything in life led me to her. As we rose on the Ferris wheel, our eyes fixed on the lake, mirroring the setting sun, our shared journey unfolding before us, marking the start of a purpose with someone I wouldn’t want to let go of.