After all these years, I can still feel the flutter of excitement in my gut that my six year old brain thought was true love. He wore brown plaid with brown pants and a white ball cap atop a mop of brown hair. He had the darkest, prettiest eyelashes and the dreamiest big blue eyes. Golly. He and one of my girlfriends headed up a game every recess where they were our ‘parents’ and we had to listen to them. She got to wear his white hat. I wanted to wear that hat.

My house was on his way home. He often stopped there to play with me (and my brothers and their friends), especially in the winter. He wore a dark gray parka with light gray fur around the hood that got covered with snow as we rolled around the yard.

Once, his mother arranged a play date for us at his house. It was awkward. A lot of sitting on the couch in silence.

I moved the next year. I called him my boyfriend for several years. Young love. I wonder what ever happened to him? Sigh.