SUNDAY

Here's my story. I was in 7th grade... How old is one in 7th grade...? 12
or 13, I guess. I rode the school bus for an hour each direction, and there
was a cute boy in 8th grade who expressed interest by writing me love notes
and making me mix tapes and winking at me over the school bus seats. This
continued for the school year. Over the summer, our contact was limited to
the telephone, since we weren't exactly neighbors. One day, I was at the
library, scheduled to be picked up by my dad on his way home from work. I
don't remember if I called Steve, but suddenly he was at the library,
sitting across from me at a table in the corner with a window facing the
main road. We were talking, and even holding hands, if memory serves. I
glanced out the window, and saw my dad's car on the main road on his way
into the library parking lot. Steve motioned for me to come closer, as if
he was going to whisper something in my ear. I leaned in, and the sweetest
kiss in the history of young love landed on my lips. It was soft, gentle,
surprising, respectful, and the perfect first kiss. I don't know where he
got the nerve to do it, but I am thankful that he did.

Many kisses followed, and I learned how to be in a respectful, successful
relationship because of Steve. As a naïve girl, he could have railroaded
over my body and feelings, but he took things slow, taught me things, never
rushed me. It's a true gift when your first love (and we were in love for 3
years) is a good experience, allowing you to grow and learn and develop into
the person you eventually become.

When we broke up, I destroyed most of the notes he wrote to me. (Partially
out of hurt, and partially because it turns out my sister had read them!) I
have always regretted destroying them because, now that I'm 30, I recognize
them as pure romance of the sweetest kind; juvenile love. It's a true love
despite its immaturity. It's a learning love, a teaching love.

That kiss is one of my favorite memories. See how we can influence each
other with the smallest of gestures, at the most unplanned of times....

-DQ

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