Ezra and me in his backyard when we were six years old. He’d been to a wedding the week before and decided we should get married. Being Ezra, he had memorized all aspects of a Jewish wedding, and we reenacted them under his elm tree. When we got to the part where the groom could kiss the bride, he pecked me on the lips and we both giggled. My heart aches a little for that day. We’re only thirteen and I know there is a lot more innocence to lose, but somehow, I, too, thought we’d save all our firsts for each other.
