The first time I talked about love with a boy was also the first time I talked about God and heaven. I was in primary school, and my closest friend was a boy named David. We were inseparable, two peas in a pod. He followed me everywhere, and I followed him too.
David always sat in the seat right in front of me, since my seat partner refused to swap places with him. But even so, our fingers often found each other, intertwined under the table, on the playground, even during assembly. We were always together.
“Do you know that I’ve seen God before?” I blurted out one day.
“Me too. I’ve been to heaven before,” he replied without hesitation.
“Really? What does it look like?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.
“White. Everywhere is white,” he said, eyes wide, as though he could see it right then.
“I’ve never been to heaven,” I said, “but God is my second-best friend. After you.”
David laughed. “God is my second-best friend too. Don’t worry, next time I go to heaven, I’ll tell God to let you come too.”
“Will God answer you?” I asked, doubtful.
“Yes. God always answers me. I told you, he’s my friend.”
“Wow. He really loves you,” I said, feeling a strange mix of jealousy and awe.
“Like he loves you too,” he said.
“I wish I could play with the angels and touch God’s face,” I whispered.
“You can,” he said. “When you come to heaven with me.”
I smiled. And though the conversation ended there, it brought us even closer. We thought we had shared something no one else ever had, something innocent, yet full of wonder. Whether what we said was true or not, it was something we both deeply desired and cherished. To see God’s love, and that one day, we would see him again.
The first time I experienced heartbreak was the day I found out David had left our school. It was also the first time I felt like a part of me went missing, and even now, I still remeber David, and hope to see him again on earth before we meet in heaven.
