My First Love

It happened when I was in the seventh grade.

He was this boy, two years older, a foot taller, and utterly obnoxious. He made me blush. He made me laugh. He was the first boy who ever called me at home, making my mother smile that secretive smile of hers.

And I blushed.

He gave me an artificial rose for Valentine's, sprayed with the tiniest touch of some heady perfume. I bought him candy every morning before class. He serenaded me with our gospel hymns and I read aloud to him from Laura Ingalls Wilder's books.

Once he hit me on the head with a volleyball and got down on his knees in front of a full cafeteria, apologizing.

I loved him so much.

I sat in the hot sun, on the dry grass, watching him play volleyball, cheering until my throat was red and dry and my eyes burnt. Every time he looked at me, with a grateful smile on his face, I felt tears sting my eyes, and I loved him even more.

Love. I never knew it until I met him.

I wanted to be his world, to protect him and hold him, kiss him and whisper poems soft and sweet. I wanted to listen to his voice singing me to sleep and feel his large hand holding mine, with that smile on his face.

"I love you," he would whisper, two years later.

It was too late. Much too late. My love was now a warm blanket that enveloped him, caring and praying he would be alright, but no longer wanting him the way I did.

Maybe if he had said the words sooner.

It's been seven years since I first met him. He was my first love and will always remain that. He's also the first boy that asked me to marry him and introduced me to his mother as his fiancée.

He was the first boy that walked down to the florist with me every day, the few weeks before Valentine's, to stare at the long-stemmed roses. He gave me heart-shaped earrings that sparkled in the light the last time we spent Valentine's together.

He was the only boy that believed in the goodness of my heart and never, NEVER doubted it. Not for a second.

I believe that there is good in him, even though I no longer speak to him. The years flew by so fast, and he always knew what was right for me. Always.

And I always went against him. Always.

Love. My first love.

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