It was then. It was in that simple moment. That seemingly insignificant look at her phone and her chuckle at whatever was shining bright through the screen was the moment I fell in love all over again. I’ve always been looking for some grandiose moment with someone so that I would know they were the one. But with her, it was different. It seemed every moment became the one I fell in love. It was never a past moment or some moment in the future, it was always this moment. Every time it happened, I thought “surely there isn’t another. Surely this is it.” But a new moment always came; a little smile, a dumb joke, the wonder in her eyes at something new, the verge of tears forming when she had a test, the excitement in her voice for the little things. It seemed every new moment was always the moment with her. And yet, I could never settle for this because surely there was nothing I had done that was the same for her. As her moments change, I seem to be trapped in the same one: waiting. Constantly waiting for the fact of the moment to change, for my moment to become our moment. It seems to always be a moment away. But maybe that isn’t just a fact of the moment but a fact of life. Maybe neither of us will ever realize the change and suddenly our individual moments because our moments. Until then, I wait in this moment, falling in love with every moment I have with her.