I always knew what I didn’t want to be.

Snatched, married off, taken, “done”, settled.

The Torah description; one that is of a man searching for a lost object, and finally finds her is what seemed the most romantic. Finders keepers. I wanted to be claimed.

This is the love letter I wish I had the courage to write myself, when I was in the throes of searching, seemingly lost, and unsettled, “done” in other ways, and definitely not feeling snatch worthy.

I wish I knew then to believe, that someone, he, can and will come along- those little things that I thought we’d have to learn to “get” about the other, would be nonexistent. He’d speak my language and I’d smile easily. No second-guessing little comments, thinking twice before voicing my actual thoughts- his quips wouldnt’t seem misplaced, like cues to deeper secrets that I didn’t want to know.

In synch. Perfectly imperfect. My mother’s Bracha to me always was that when he shows up, we should get each other and that each party should be maven enough to appreciate what the other is about. Simchas Hachaim, none of that underlying cynicism. Life throws its own curveballs, no need to create a vortex. I never wanted to apologize for wanting frum. Like actual frum, the kind that scares boys who want to live “life and be merry” away- and that’s fine- mashgiach101 was never in the syllabus when I was in the school of acquiring my M.R.S. #youdoyou was coined for girls who wanted to convey to boys, minyan, learning, this is between you and Hashem-…

“To know your heart is my greatest treasure, but to share your mind will be my greatest adventure.”

I’ll tell you a secret- I am writing this now. He hasn’t appeared yet, and I’m unclaimed.

But this post is being published because at this point, Chasdei Hashem WE are claimed.

He was searching for me, and I was just as equally lost and found at the same time. It took two to tango with this one.

We were both lost in different ways, now I finally understand the depth of what nursery rhymes have been preparing us for our whole lives. Finders keepers; no backsies.