What if...

What if he's not looking for me?

...

Permit me to explain. When I was about 6, I lived in a place called Lisle in Illinois. Growing up there, I became really good friends with my brothers because there weren't any other kids on our block. However, if you went down the street and past the tennis courts, there was another group of houses where lived the closest LDS family to where we were.  (It was rare enough to have somebody within a ten minute drive, so having a family within a ten minute bike ride was amazing.) In this family, there was a boy my age. His name was Parker.

Now, I don't remember a whole lot, other than we were friends. And also a brief memory where we were waiting for the bus after kindergarten and talking to the teacher. We boldly announced to her that someday we were going to get married. She laughed and asked him if he wasn't too old for me, he being 7 and I was 6. I don't remember anything else from that.

His family eventually moved to Texas and I lost touch, remembering him vaguely from a silver heart trinket he gave me before we left. (Corny doesn't exist when you're 6, right?)

Every once in a while it'll flit across my mind and I'll try my luck on Facebook or stalkernet or what have you. But I don't remember what his last name is, other than it's most likely some variation of 'Stevens'. But there are a lot of Stevens out there... and I don't even know where he is.

But for the first time, this week I asked myself something. I'm looking for him... but what if he's not looking for me?

....

I'm not sure what I'm thinking I'll find, if I ever find him at all. Maybe I won't. And that's fine. But I keep hoping that maybe someday we'll find each other. And maybe he remembers the same things I do. And maybe something miraculous will happen. Maybe not. Most likely not, let's get real here.

But I just keep hoping that perhaps we'll get lucky.