Like all freshman in college, I was forced in every class to stand up, introduce myself, and share where I was from and what my goals/interests/pursuits would be in the following four years. Let me break to tell you: I hate, loathe, abhor standing and speaking in public. I get incredibly uncomfortable when all eyes are on me. (Hence, the reason only 14 people were allowed at my wedding, including the pastor.) Nevertheless, I followed the drill and empathetically listened to my peers’ shaky voices declare their name, hometown, and favorite color. In one particular class, a short, stalky, wrestler stood up and stated his name was Wes and he was from a small town in Kansas. My ears immediately perked. Where have I heard that town before? As if possessed with an uncharacteristic, supernatural courage, I abruptly interjected this poor guy’s intro. “You’re from where? Do you happen to know a guy named Tyler?” The whole class turned to look at me. I didn’t care; this was important. “Yeah…Tyler’s, like, one of my best friends,” he said with a look of shock, confusion, or disgust. (I really couldn’t tell which one, but I kept going.) “Oh! He was my third grade boyfriend. Will you please tell him Kaime says, ‘hi’?” “Umm, sure,” he responded. Then, though I’m not positive, I’m pretty sure he mumbled “weirdo” under his breath.
A month or so later while chatting online with friends, I received an instant message from a new contact. It was Tyler. Realizing we were so close in proximity, he wanted to meet up. “Of course!” I answered. “Okay,” he said, “but who’s that guy in your picture icon?” Like an idiot, I responded, “Oh, that’s my boyfriend. But, I don’t think he’d mind if I met up with an old friend.” Suddenly, Tyler seemed a lot less interested in chatting, let alone meeting up. Our tentative plans fizzled, just like that new, budding relationship I was in should have… Dumb girl.
Fall semester ended with my second ACL reconstruction surgery and a much needed break from the life I was leading up North. (Coming home can bring such perspective, you know?) I started Spring semester single (much to the relief of my parents), in a new dorm room, with a new resolve. I was going to rehab hard, kick the late-night partying, and get serious with my life. It was only weeks later, on Valentine’s Day, that Tyler noticed the loser in my icon picture was missing. He sent me a message, and we talked online for hours. The typing grew tiresome, so he asked for my number, and we talked late into the night. I woke up the next morning with the same butterflies I had as a nine year old on the soccer field. He must have had them too, because he called or texted me every morning, afternoon, and night for the next two weeks. It was then that I mentioned my plans to visit Mom and Dad in Colorado (my dad’s job had them living there temporarily), and, on a whim, I asked if he wanted to come along. I didn’t expect his answer, but it came quickly. “Yes.” I hung up the phone and called my mom to make sure it was okay. Thankfully, she said yes. She had loved Tyler as a little boy and was excited to meet him as a young man. So was I.
It was almost dark when I pulled into the driveway to pick him up for our trip to Colorado. Tyler was standing in the side door of his parents’ house, and I thought to myself, “That is the cutest, most desirable silhouette of a man I have ever seen.” It had been almost a decade since I’d seen him, but nothing had changed. We talked like time hadn’t passed, with an ease only childhood friends understand. Within weeks, he told me he loved me. Within months, he’d moved to Texas. Within a year, we were married.
It’s been almost twenty years since we met, but time hasn’t changed us. We still talk on the phone, ride bikes, fight like siblings, and play like best friends. He’s my first kiss, my first love, and, looking back, I realize he’s one of my first answers to prayer.
You see, my love story was authored masterfully. From the love-at-first-sight encounter on the playground, and the heart wrenchingly sudden departure from Kansas, to the fateful change of college plans that perfectly placed my path to cross Tyler’s, God lovingly answered my childhood request. He gave me a story. Only, He made it sweeter and with much greater reward than I had hoped.
