For three days my brain had been having an ongoing rap battle with my heart.
I turned twenty-nine on the island of Ometepe in Nicaragua. It was an opportune day for a birthday. I was in need of encouraging vibes and what better than a birthday to imbibe such energy? No one in the entire country but me knew it was my birthday, and I loved this fact. Every birthday since forever, everyone knew. They made me cake, sang me a song, and called the worst name ever, “the birthday boy!”
I felt a wistful elation at having a secret birthday. Twenty-nine years ago, I had debuted myself to the world and to celebrate decided to have a lovely day and not to worry about whether or not I was falling in love with a girl, Stella. It was ridiculous to even think like this. I had met her only three days before, and for three days my brain had been having an ongoing rap battle with my heart. But today was my birthday, so I was not going to worry about whether or not Stella felt the same stomach sting of mutual falling.
On a Birthday Mission in Ometepe Nicaragua
I got an early start on the day, and set out on a mission: Find crayons. When Stella had shown me her lovely watercolor paintings she had mentioned remorsefully that she had lost her crayons somewhere on the road. I was determined to find her new crayons. 
The morning air was just beginning to warm. My mission took me through quaint villages spaced every kilometer or so along the main road. Twittering birds sang happy birthday in their own ways. In each village I found a papeleria and asked about their crayon situation.
The first village only had colored pencils. These would not do. I needed crayons! I continued down the warming road. The next village same deal—only colored pencils. Ditto the second and third. All I wanted for my birthday was to see joy blossoming in Stella’s emerald eyes, so I kept walking determined to find crayons.
I found myself hurrying and slowed my pace. There was no reason to rush. The backdrop was beautiful. The sun smiled. The birds had much to say. Gratitude was what I felt on that road that day. I felt thankful for everything. For my family. For my life. For the years I’d lived. For the path I was on literally and figuratively. And for the unknown adventures on my horizon.
suspected that Ometepe was an island where coloring had yet to catch on. I settled for a pack of colored pencils—not a replacement for her lost crayons, but something.
On the way back I consciously took a break from pointless questioning. If you let them, questions, especially ones without answers, will race around your mind like a hamster on a diet of adderall: If you don’t like her, why did you Google the compatibility of the star signs that she believes in? If you don’t like her like that, then why are you even asking the question of whether or not you do in the first place?
We could spend a whole book exploring the theme of love, and many have. Without getting lost in trying to define what I was feeling, let’s keep it simple and say I’d never met anyone like Stella. I’d fallen in love before—because we all have in various forms and to various degrees. It had been a while since I saw anyone like I saw Stella. Alongside this feeling of falling, was a sinking certainty that the more I let these unbridled feelings out to pasture, the harder I would hit when things didn’t work out.
Anything can happen, I reminded myself. You don’t know that things are not going to work out. You don’t know that this will lead to rejection or separation. You don’t even really know who this person is.
Hopeful in Ometepe Nicaragua
All things considered, there was plenty to be hopeful about. I had planned to return the next day to Antigua, Guatemala. But Stella had convinced me to join her in San Juan del Sur, and was contemplating coming with me to Antigua after that. We had gone from strangers to traveling companions in a short amount of time, and who knew where this road would lead?
Love is one of those strange things. Like most of us, I’ve been on both sides of love’s equation. I’d lost some good friends who fell for me. I’ve always felt betrayed how affection can sink to a thorny resentment when romantic feelings aren’t reciprocated. Isn’t feeling this affection for someone, even if it isn’t reciprocated, isn’t this one of the greatest feelings, one of the greatest gifts a person can have? Even if it ends up not being mutual, I told myself, you are one of the lucky ones to feel this way.
This feeling—reciprocated or not, makes us certain we are alive, makes every breath filled with ambitious marvel, colors every thought a peacock color. After I returned from my crayon mission, Stella and I had time to kill before we had to catch a bus, to a boat, to a taxi, to another bus, to San Juan del Sur. We sat on the porch of the hostel dorm and played music. Frosting on her cake was how much Stella loved to jam out to my music, how she demanded more songs after each one finished, how she joined me in impromptu jams.
I felt like she saw me the same way I saw myself. It is hard to write exactly what I mean. Travel that day was seamless. The bus arrived on time on an island where people complained about buses never arriving on time. The bus drove up onto the boat and dropped us off. With a clear sky, with the volcanos of Ometepe as our scenery, we drank a beer in the open air seating on the boat.
On a hike three days before I had mentioned to Stella and John about my impending birthday, and on the boat Stella asked, “Don’t you have a birthday soon?” “Yes,” I smiled, “it is today.” She hit me, “Shut up? Today, and you didn’t tell me! And we’re not doing anything special for it?!”
She had no idea how wonderful this birthday was. I was spending it with this girl, this mystery, this beautiful uncertainty.
“I’m having a great birthday,” I told her, “Drinking a beer with you on a boat, with that in the background,” I gestured to the volcanos, “there’s nowhere else I would rather be right now and nothing else I would rather be doing.” And I hoped she heard in my voice how true this was. I knew where the boat was going, knew where the bus would take us, but had no idea where this was going to go, did not know if she would decide to come back with me to Antigua, did not know what that would mean if she did, but I knew that of anywhere I wanted to be, it was on this boat, next to this girl, feeling that feeling.
