Love and Memory Bricks

Do you remember your first real love? I'd have to say in all honesty that it was Jeff Riley. I used to try to kiss him every day in Kindergarten. He was fair of face, funny, and diplomatic. My feelings carried all the way to middle school where we shared a table in art class. Every morning we sat there and talked, laughed about stupid things . . . until he asked me to GO with him (like going steady) and I thought he was joking. I really gave it to him and things were never the same.

After that I fell madly in love with the accompanist in choir class. His name was Eric Jones and he was fair-haired as well, but he had the most delicious red cheeks which blazed whenever you spoke to him. His looks, coupled with his classical piano skills, made me weak in the knees. I loved him all through high school, which I'm sure he knew, but was wise enough to never address. I just remember a special Christmas concert at a little shop in town. We were all dressed up in satin dresses and tuxes, and he had on a cologne that I adored. I don't think you can even find it anymore, but even if it was around, why should I go sniff out the past? Memories are like bricks, let them pile together until you have a life full and solid. Take one out and the whole thing crumbles.

I wanted to tell him so badly that day how much I really loved him. But the truth was I didn't yet know what love was. Not real true love. I just had a nice, warm, speck of it.