I was seven and you were nine when we first met. I had just moved into the neighborhood because our parents were friends from college. You were the only other kid on the block in our small town, and that little block was our whole world, so you were the only other kid at our open house. When we met, it was so casual, because our parents had abandoned us in the yard together.

"My name's Gilbert Beilschmidt, what's yours?"

"Elizabeta Hedervary."

"Okay, Lizzy! Let's go check out your tree house!"

You led me out to the oak tree in the back yard and up inside the tree house. I followed you like a puppy, watching his red eyes sparkle when he talked about your friends from school and his games. When I told you that I thought that him playing knight was silly, you told me you'd beat me up, and I almost thought you would because you were several inches taller, and you were roughed up from playing. But you never did.

When you didn't, I laughed at you. Even though you were gripping my shirt and holding me up. Even though you had your arm pulled back, ready to punch me. I laughed. "You're a wimp," I teased.

"Am not!"

"Then I dare you to kiss me!" I said. Most guys wouldn't dare at that age, as they're still in the stage of not liking girls. But you leaned in, intent on proving you weren't a wimp. I squirmed out of your grip and climbed out of the tree house. Gilbert, you gave chase, and we played and laughed for the rest of the day. We ran until dark, our clothes covered in grass stains as we tackled each other on the ground.

Our parents watched from the porch as we hid and ran and got so out of breath that we were tripping over each other. My dad and yours joked about us falling in love, and eventually getting married. Our mothers shook their heads and rolled their eyes at the jokes and our playing. After all, we were just kids.

Nine years later, when I was sixteen, suddenly things changed between us. I wasn't that little girl you used to play with in the yard, I was the pretty girl in school getting all the attention. I was the girl that you asked out at the grocery store, and I said yes because I saw those shining eyes. I could never resist those eyes.

The first time you came to pick me up, your parents were already over. My mom and yours were in the kitchen gossiping about the lady down the street who's husband left her for the cleaning lady. My dad and yours were playing poker with some other guys from town in the dining room. I hadn't told them about the date, and you hadn't either. Our dads were surprised to see we had fallen in love, and our mothers just smiled and rolled their eyes when you helped me into your truck.

I remember the creek beds we turned up. How we would go out until two A.M. riding around the countryside. How we sat in the fields on weekends, staring at each other and talking. How we'd go out to dinner most every night with the money you got working part time at the mechanic's.

How we got in our first fight. It was in the middle of my yard, after you'd taken me home that night. How we had started arguing about the waitress, how she had flirted with you and you had flirted right back. We had yelled, loud, in the yard. The neighbors looked out their window to see us fall apart. I had stormed back into my house, slamming the door and leaving our relationship on the lawn. I had stomped up to my room, flicked on the lights, and cried for a few hours on my bed. I had heard the sound of you hitting the side of your truck in frustration.

The next morning, when I looked outside, I saw something I wasn't expecting. You. You had stayed there all night, sleeping in the flat bed of your truck. I saw you pacing, looking torn up, hands in your pockets, your hair messy, and your eyes with dark circles under them. I ran outside as fast as I could, grabbing you and hugging you as hard as I could. You hugged back as if you had been dying all night.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything I said. It was all my fault," you said.

"I'm sorry too, and I'm just as much in fault," I replied.

"I love you, Liz."

"I love you too, Gil."

Years later, I was twenty-one and you were twenty-three, no one thought we'd make it that far. You took me to our favorite spot in town, a diner on Main Street we went to on our first date. Right before we got our pie, you stood up abruptly, but you didn't stand for long. You pulled a little black box out of your pocket and kneeled next to my stool.

"Elizabeta Hedervary, will you marry me and make me the happiest man alive?"

I was speechless for a second, and so was the whole diner. Everyone was silent, watching for my answer. I was holding my cheeks with my hands and tears of happiness slipped from my eyes. "Oh, yes! YES! I love you Gil!" You stood and wrapped your arms around me as I cried, I could feel you press kisses on my hair.

I'll never forget our wedding day. The whole town came out to the meadow and watched us marry as our mothers cried. We walked down the aisle and said our "I do"'s. My parents moved back to where we lived before, and we lived in the house we met in. I knew that we'd rock our babies on that little front porch in the hanging swing.

One day I'll be eighty-seven; you'll be eighty-nine. I'll still look at you like the stars that shine, in the sky. Oh my my my.