My Valentine--the one who plays guitar

He led music that night when we first left Mexico, all crowded together in a hotel lobby, singing and reflecting on the things that we'd learned that week. I sat beside him and the admiration and wonder at this amazing person grew. He knew any song they asked him to play.
Occasionally, he'd look over at me, and I'd listen to him singing harmony and get lost imagining that we were leading together.
I had a list at that point. I was fifteen, and I'd planned out my future like this. If I ever dated someone, it would be so that we could get married. Clearly, age fifteen was not the time to make decisions like that. But clearly, one cannot tell one's heart to stop falling for someone. And there I was, stuck between feelings and resolutions, and sort of figuring that neither one of them were going to work out.
I'd had crushes, that was for sure. I had a list of guys I liked, but most of them didn't know me and probably none of them liked me that way. But this one was different. He was better than all of those ones. He'd already shown me amazing gifts--and I had a list then, a list of everything I wanted in a guy. Coincidentally, it was his uncle who had passingly advised me to keep a list of what I wanted so I could have it prioritized when I met someone to know if they were "the one".
I don't even know what all was on that teenage list of mine, but whatever was then, he fit them all. He was "the One".  And that night, watching him play guitar, took the cake. He was so perfect, and he was my friend already, and I completely loved him by then, even though we'd only known each other for the summer.

When we were at the youth group reunion in December, we had a little flashback music session, with an overhead projector and Pastor Mark plunking away on guitar, and then it built up through the years. So Daniel and his brother played guitar and his cousin sang with Angie, the piano/worship leader from that time. (He's in the red shirt in the pictures). And while I watched him up there, sounding amazing on guitar having not practiced a lick, smiling, that excitement and happiness falling out of him all over the stage and audience, I remembered all of those first times we had together in youth group. Singing in the musical, riding the bus, working together. And mostly, those nights in Mexico. Me, fifteen years old and falling in love with the skinny energetic guitar player.
Here I am today, fifteen years later, still admiring him. Still in love--more in love than I ever knew possible. Still wondering why someone so amazing would ever pick me.