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 then, and my closest friend was a boy named David. We were inseparable. You could call us 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 thinking.
“Really? What does it look like?” I asked because I was really curious.
“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 and also wondered if that were something God would do.
“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.
“As he loves you too,” he said.
“I wish I could play with 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, so full of wonder. Whether what we said was true or not, it was something we both deeply desired and cherished then. To believe in love, in God, and in the idea 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 a part of me went missing. Ever since then, I’ve been looking forward to meeting David again. Hopefully, here on earth before we finally meet in heaven.
