It was a family affair; a picnic where everyone in her family attended—people she knew, some she was acquainted with and others she had no recollection of meeting yet they said they had met her before when she was just born (of course she couldn’t’ve remembered them). That is where they met, yet he wasn’t family. He was a friend of the cousin she was closest to; one of those people your family might’ve talked about a lot, but you never met until you meet them. From the stories her cousin told about him, she thought he was a nerd, but how she judged him was completely off the mark. When she first met him, she mistook him for one of the waiters from the company her grandparents hired each year so they could pull off the greatest reunion in the history of the world. The two of them began to talk for a bit; in a short minute they became friends and hung out for most of the picnic. In one of their long conversations on a set of swings, she learned he was one of her classmates from kindergarten and early elementary school; one of those guys she had one of those little kindergarten crushes on. They laughed away the memories when sharing was how you got an “A”, naptime was something you never looked forward to but now want more than anything in the world in the middle of the school day; and when their teacher was making bread for them, the bread exploded in the oven causing a small fire and they were let home early. The following day, the teacher brought in a huge cake since she destroyed the bread. They remembered when flipping over the bar the swings were on would make you famous and the only kid to do that was class jerk. In the middle of their laughter, her cousin ran into them.