Whenever we are asked to recount a love story that has touched our lives in the deepest way, most people often think of a romantic love between the opposite gender. Only a few mention the love between a mother and her child. And then, there's me, who instantly thinks of the eleven year old girl I met on my first night of boarding school.
You see, I had always kept to myself for the most part. Even when I gradually eased into playing with other kids my age, I still returned to myself. That quiet version of me that slips away from all the noise, goes mute for hours, and feels comfortable existing in her own space was never lost.
But that night was different.
After the whole chaos of moving my belongings into my assigned room and bunk, I settled down with four of my roommates to introduce ourselves. In the middle of those introductions, we realized how good our company was because the later conversations never seemed to end. We eventually stayed up until midnight, chatting and laughing so hard about any and everything. It felt like we had known each other for years, and the warmth from being around them made me feel at home.
We eventually said our goodnights and before I shut my eyes, I began to think about the one girl who stood out to me. I remember watching her a few times, feeling amused by the number of times she had cried in one day and how hilarious her thunderous laughter was. I was completely smitten by her beauty because I had never seen such a beautiful dark skinned girl in my life. But here I was, with one as my roommate.
The next morning, we performed our hostel duties side by side, and this gave us another chance to speak to each other. When we returned from classes, I helped her fetch a bucket of water since I had gotten to the tap early. Before the end of the term, we had discovered that we were compatible as friends and what drew me the most was the fact that our connection was natural, not forced or fought for.
It didn't take long before we started washing our uniforms together, eating from the same plate in the dining hall even when it was against the rules, taking care of each other when we fell ill, falling asleep on the same bed, bathing around the same time, heading to class together, and rotating night prep in each other’s classrooms just to stay close. During the holidays, we spoke for hours unending through our parents’ phones until we finally got ours. We also shared our secrets, fears and dreams with each other.
This routine we had lasted for six whole years of secondary school, and as we prepared towards our graduation, we made sure to create the best memories with each other. In everything we did, from laying our guards down, to sharing our belongings to caring, gifting and taking photos of our last days together, love was always present as the driver. And on the day we were to leave the hostel forever, we cried the hardest for each other.
Each time I think about the love we poured into our friendship and still pour into it as adults, I consider it one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. And if anyone asks whether I have truly loved and been loved in return, I will gladly mention my friend, my most beautiful girl, who was and still remains my first experience of true love. I'm grateful that through the years, we have continued to choose each other more fiercely, and I hope our love story knows no end.
This blog post is a response to the Hive Student's weekly prompt, which you can find here.
All Images used in this post are mine. When they're not, I make sure to credit the source.
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