Before I knew you, I ambled all over Paris in my red sneakers, wishing you were there.
Before I knew you, I marveled at every masterpiece, missing you.
Before I knew you, I spent every late afternoon in the Luxembourg Gardens, reading, and wishing you were there to hold my hand.
Before I knew you, I savored every café crème, pen and journal in hand, writing about how I wondered if I would ever find you.
And yet I knew without a doubt that this time was a treasure.
And I knew that when I met you, I would realize that, somehow, you had been there all along.
And when I finally met you, and I shared that part of me with you, you made that part of me, part of you.