I’m sitting in the back seat, the two of them in the front.

He’s talking, reassuring and his hands touch her leg, a gentle caress.

They’ve been together for a year, so I know it’s not quite puppy love, but it’s young love nonetheless.

She’s protective of him, wanting him to have company, feel secure and accepted.

He’s adoring of her, wary of stepping with the wrong foot and fearing her leave.

Young love. 

I forgot what it felt like.

Long gone are the days when V would do just about anything for me.

Long gone are the days when I would be so extremely considerate for him.
Life happened to us. 

I can’t say if it was money, hurt, the bills or a baby. 

But it happened. 

And our love is deeply incredible yet also, so deeply everyday.
Young love.

Like youth, it’s enthralling to watch. 

Beautiful, naive and in some wistful way, you want it all over again. 
My darling friends – enjoy it.

Revel in it.
The love doesn’t shrivel as it ages. 

But it changes.

It’s a steadier love. 

It feels less magical, every passing day.

And as much as I love the love I have, I know those heady, romance filled early days were really something.
I wouldn’t wish back the turmoil, the head-fuck, the adjusting, the insecurities.

But for a moment, yes, I would love to have an evening with V as if it were 2006 all over again.