First Love
I wrote this in a comment on Mac's blog:
Ada. We were only 10 when we first met. We went to the same school, rode in the same shuttle van, and laughed at the same jokes. Then on my birthday, she gave me a gift -- a small, square notebook with a bright yellow hardcover to write in. She said, "One day you will be a writer." I held dear to that notebook for as long as I could. The notebook is long gone now, but she stays in my heart.
We eventually met again when we were in high school -- she stayed at the same old school, but I went to a different, all-boy school. We hadn't seen each other for years until one day we literally bumped into each other at a restaurant. We talked, and we laughed at the same jokes again. I asked for her number and we went out. We went to our elementary class reunion, and I thought she was the prettiest girl there.
Two days before I came to the US, she took me to Stanley Beach. We watched the sun set as we said our goodbyes. I didn't know what to do or say. We just sat side by side, until the time came when we must leave our history behind. I never kissed her.
We exchanged a letter or two after I started my life in the US, then I never heard from her again. 15 years later, I found a letter among my parents' things. She had written me, one last time, but I never got the letter, and I never replied. To this day, I don't know where she is, what she is doing with her life. To this day, I have no idea how hurt she felt when she never received a reply from me.
To this day, the name Ada still makes me sad.
What's yours? And how it affected you?
Category: Ray, Writing, Love
Ada. We were only 10 when we first met. We went to the same school, rode in the same shuttle van, and laughed at the same jokes. Then on my birthday, she gave me a gift -- a small, square notebook with a bright yellow hardcover to write in. She said, "One day you will be a writer." I held dear to that notebook for as long as I could. The notebook is long gone now, but she stays in my heart.
We eventually met again when we were in high school -- she stayed at the same old school, but I went to a different, all-boy school. We hadn't seen each other for years until one day we literally bumped into each other at a restaurant. We talked, and we laughed at the same jokes again. I asked for her number and we went out. We went to our elementary class reunion, and I thought she was the prettiest girl there.
Two days before I came to the US, she took me to Stanley Beach. We watched the sun set as we said our goodbyes. I didn't know what to do or say. We just sat side by side, until the time came when we must leave our history behind. I never kissed her.
We exchanged a letter or two after I started my life in the US, then I never heard from her again. 15 years later, I found a letter among my parents' things. She had written me, one last time, but I never got the letter, and I never replied. To this day, I don't know where she is, what she is doing with her life. To this day, I have no idea how hurt she felt when she never received a reply from me.
To this day, the name Ada still makes me sad.
What's yours? And how it affected you?
Category: Ray, Writing, Love
Comments
I can see now how there's a bit of Ada in your story.
If she runs across your book - and I hope she does, she'll know where to find you.