Thursday, June 3, 2010

Third Grade

The church I grew up in had an annual cook-off where all the families would come together and camp on one large piece of forested private property. They had trail rides, tree swings, zip lines, outdoor movie theatres, and lots of chillie. The last one I can remember going to was in the third grade when I had a terrible crush on this little angle, Jillian Biglane.

This is the same girl who went to private school with me. After school, she and I would go across to street to where the sixth and seventh graders would practice track and cross-country. I remember one day trying to impress her by keeping up with her while running backwards. To put it bluntly, we don't run like that for a reason. I fell flat onto my back and hit my head on the hard caliche road.

That year at the cook-off, we snuck away from all our friends and the parents. We met, what felt like the background of the events, at the tree swing in the evening just as the stars started to sparkle. We were quiet, comfortable in the moment, and thrilled with delight. I pushed her and every returning swing, I smelt her shampoo scent. I wanted that moment to last forever. It was the first time I had chareshed time with a girl. It was the first time my hands got sweaty and I felt the unsettling pleasure of butterflies in my stomach. Inoccent, pure, and honest.

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