I never found a convincing answer until I saw this picture.
That's a picture of my parents on the day of their wedding. The place behind is where all my family used to live. I, myself, spent the very first year of my life there and frequently went back to visit my grand-parents. There was an Italian man residing right next door with his family. He used to offer melons he planted in his backyard to my grand-parents. That man was Jonathan’s grand-father.
A few years later, my grand-parents moved away as well. I also forgot about the existence of this place and moved onward with my life.
About twenty years later, I walked a seemingly unknown path to visit Jonathan's place for the first time. I was complaintful and unenthusiastic; I didn't realize that he was actually taking me back to a place where I spent the earliest part of my childhood. What are the chances? Isn't life odd? It's a place I forgot existed and even at this very moment...it's still a blur. It feels distant, yet a sense of home is present.
Fate is like gravity. You can run as far as you wish, but the earth is still round and you will eventually come back the departure point. A part of me refused to accept. Fate is scary and it's hard to admit defeat, but it somehow completes us and your heart knows. Flight and defiance take courage but acceptance doesn’t require any less.
All this could be a mere coincidence, but how many coincidences does it take for two people to meet?
Today, when I look at Jonathan, everything makes sense.
It’s all written.