Short Story of My First Love
Photo credit: fiona_adam from morguefile.com
My last year in high school was truly memorable because of a sweet little teen-age girl that took my heart. School year 1956-1957 has just started when one afternoon a teacher introduced us to each other. It has something to do with a project in Pilipino we are to work together. The chance encounter was brief. I never remember what we talked. All I can recall was how delicate and graceful her hands as she gesture when she speak.
The sound of her voice was so pleasing. Her almond shaped eyes smiles when she laughed. There was the bloom of crimson on her damp lips and shades of scarlet on her smooth face. Her scent is heavenly. As if an unseeable bouquet of garlands surrounds her. And the way her shiny black shoulder length hair sway when she move her head fascinate me . She was the most beautiful girl I have ever met. When we parted that afternoon, my heart deserted me and went with her. She was my first love.
I sleep very little the night we met. I dream of her with my eyes wide open. I beg God to hurry up morning. The next day I saw her again after school and this time we spend a little more time together. I walked her home and that was the beginning of our many promenades. We discovered we have a lot of things in common. We delight in each other’s company. We shared stories and laughed a lot. Yet I lack the courage to tell her how I feel. The thought of losing her should I open up my heart, kept the verses I rehearsed countless nights locked in my mind.
But on the last simbang gabi in 1956, with the morning chill of December and the dark of the night waning, I confessed to her she is my first love. She look me long and deep in the eyes as if searching the truth in what I said. Without a word I took her hand and she allowed me to kiss it. Then she look down and whispered she is afraid. She has never been in love before and don’t know what to do. I gently lifted her face. The light as dawn break showed the worry in her misty eyes. I draw her towards me and for the first time I put my arms around her. I felt the warmth of her firm body and the tight embrace of her arms on my back. She look up at me again with a smile, and then we kiss for the very first time. It was the sweetest, most passionate and romantic kiss I can ever remember.
I have never forgotten her. Even in my worst days, the memories we shared always makes me smile. They say you always lose your first love, you may never find it back, the bliss of marriage may guise it, but the truth is first love never leaves. It stays with you, in your mind, in your heart, waiting for you to be alone, lonesome, feeling down and empty.
Then she’s there. Exactly as she was the last time you saw her. Young, lovely, vibrant, smiling, pulling your hand for another sentimental sojourn down the enchanting lane of memories bygone.
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