My First Love


Young love is probably the most pure of all love because it is driven completely by instinct and an earnest desire for someone and their love. There is no analysis of the other person’s career plans, family background, or even whether he/she would parent robust (and hopefully beautiful) children. No, young love erupts from the heart, without warning and without regard. Perhaps this is really the definition of true love?

My first love came at tender the age of 4, in the merry days of preschool in Georgetown, Kentucky. (Yes, I have roots here.) Fresh from India, and born into a conservative family who may have spanked me for my wandering eyes — my love story is that much more passionate.

The boy: a beautiful fair-skinned, blue-eyed, blonde boy with angelically rosy cheeks by the name of Jeremiah –er…don’t know his last name so we’ll say it was Whiteboy. Yes, Jeremiah Whiteboy was the original prince who captured my heart. He was the John Smith to my Pocahontas and from the moment little Indian Foram laid eyes on her Caucasian prince, she knew what love was about.

I have two vivid memories with Jeremiah and both are rather sweet and indicative of how innocent and pure our affection was. (Yes you see, I like to believe that unlike the games boys play today that leave girls unsure of the depth of their love that Jeremiah was different. I like to believe that our love was mutual.) If someone had filmed our relationship, it would’ve been the stuff of romantic legend.

The first memory was a day when Mr. Whiteboy showed me that he was a man willing to bend on one knee for me, and so he did — to tie my shoes! [Insert swoon] When tying laces was a skill missing from my set, and I was on the cusp of harm from a potentially dangerous fall, my prince was there to save his damsel in distress. So graciously and lovingly, he bent on one knee and tied them for me at school. What an act of devotion! I went home that day bursting to tell my parents what had happened. Somehow (and thankfully so), they found amusement in their 4-year-old daughter having already fallen in love with a little, White boy after just moving relocating our entire family across the world  — which was very lucky, indeed, because I was able to continue pining away without being scared that I would be deported back to India with my flirtatious ways!

The second memory is captured on camera, and I can still remember it like it was yesterday. (As is typical with memories that are bound in love) It was picture day, and Ms. Girten’s class was being seated for their turn. Alas, I was on one end of the bottom row, and Jeremiah on the other end. Star-crossed lovers, we truly were! But no matter — it didn’t keep me from dreamily gazing away at that beautiful cherub face — even when it was too late…

Click.

The photographer snapped the picture and the memory was captured forever: the little, Indian girl in her white dress and red vest with a matching hair bow and tights was the only onenot looking at the camera. Instead, there she is…distracted and…not listening to directions? What looks like an attention deficit issue is really a child’s infatuation with her love! She was admiring her heartthrob with his kind heart (and gorgeous face, of course).

Ah, these are the memories of love I will always have — not only because they’re pretty stinkin’ sweet, but it’s the only relationship I’ve had that didn’t involve some sort of complication and grown-up people mess. Yes, this was my first and true love: Jeremiah Whiteboy of Georgetown, Kentucky.

Who were your first loves? Leave me a comment and tell me about them!

 

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