I had heard about it before. It wasn't something often talked about, especially outside of the Internet, but I had read about it somewhere or heard it from someone. I thought it was kind of cool. Of course, that's me: the one forever believing in fairytales and hoping for a novel-like romance. The weirdo that never wanted to go on dates because I just wasn't convinced the guy was my prince.

Apparently there's a tiny red cord tied to my ankle right now, connecting me to my soulmate. And yours too. Everyone's, in fact. That's what the old Chinese folklore say. The Japanese think it's the little finger. I don't really know the whole story, I Wikipedia'd it but you know how those pages are. There's a lot of words and "see alsos" and I just get bored. 

All I know if that something snapped inside of me. Or, maybe, inside of someone else. I know something was different from then on. It wasn't right off that I noticed it, time seemed to sharpen my senses and it was more than just my fascination with fairytales and soulmates that had me paying attention to little things. I didn't notice at first either. It was months, actually. Then it was like someone was tapping me on the shoulder when I sat lonesomely in a room full of people or someone twisting their fingers with mine while I laid wide awake in my dark room at night. When I cried alone in my rooms after hard days, I was never actually alone. I didn't sing along to the radio by myself anymore and those love songs (sad and happy) made even more sense. Dreams felt more like reality than anything and some faces were more vivid than others. Some mornings when I woke, I felt like a had just missed the good morning kiss I was supposed to always get. 

I loved it. Every single thing. I finally realized (or thought I knew) what it was. I figured out why everything only ever felt halfway done. The tap on my shoulder was only a tap and the person was gone. The hand in mine would slip away before I could fully grasp and the presence trying to comfort me when I cried never had time to pull me into their embrace. The duets sang in the car were only halfway done. And my dreams remained dreams.

I raced back to Google and Wikipedia. What's this? What's that? It's folklore? It's just legends? Not really true . . . right? I'm kidding myself, no doubt. I couldn't help it though. Details. So many little details, so many signs, numbers, things people call coincidences, things people laugh and shake there head at. Those things all meant way more to me. Because if you can't believe in love and soulmates, what can you believe in?

So I waited. I waited in agony and loneliness. It was my ankle. I was positive. My left ankle, according to my keen eye and gut. No, I couldn't see a red thread or string or cord on my ankle or anywhere on me but I just had a feeling so deep down in my being, I had to believe it. My left ankle had an invisible red thread tied around it connecting me to the person I'm fated to meet and love. Soulmate if you want to be simple about it.

Surely, I've gone bananas. So I wait in silent agony so I don't get called crazy.

I'm still waiting a few years later when I land in JFK airport with my friend, taking a mini vacation to NYC. I don't tell her but I'm jittery and my left leg has been twitching for the past month; since we first planned the trip. I could nearly feel it in my bones but I was almost terrified to let myself believe and my imagination run wild. 

"If it happens, it happens," I mumbled under my breath as we left the airport, going to our hotel. The taxi driver eyed me in the rearview mirror while my friend tapped on her phone to notify family of our safe arrival.

I was on edge the entire day. I couldn't seem to sit still or stop glancing over my shoulder. How was I supposed to know? I hoped I would by some higher power considering I had gotten this far. My friend and I drifted through the streets, sight seeing and shopping. When we finall