The First Crush Story

For some reason, on my way to work today, as I drove the same stretch of rode I always do when I go the “usual” way to work, I had a green light and soared on through while thinking of my first crush.

I was in kindergarden. I learned how to spell yellow from using these little train posters on the wall whereby each train car was a color. I figured out that I liked writing with my left hand. And I remember the day I wanted to write with it even if more people in my class were starting to write with their right hands.

So, back to my crush.

I didn’t know his name. No, this piece of information escapes me, but I remember he was one of the fifth graders designated by teachers and peers to volunteer for a little while with the kindergardeners and to play, share, and make sure we were, you know, kids.

I had the privilege of becoming a 5th grade helper, years later, and no, there were no cute boys in sight.

So this 5th grader we shall call X, he made my heart melt. He had dark hair, was tall–and gee, since I was in kindergarden, I know nothing else about him at all. I do know that he had a good heart because I saw him stick up for this girl when her hair got pulled by some snotty brat.

If you volunteer as a helper for the second shift of kindergarden, you take each line of kids out to their bus as the buses arrive. I was on Bus 5, which happened to be a cool bus, but one where I did not feel a lot of love. I was pushed and ignored upon my smiling hello’s to others my age, but that is fine, I’m over it (moreso than when I was in kindergarden, of course). So upon taking out our line to the bus (oh, I loved getting up to the front of the line to follow X), I saw the incriminating action: snotty brat takes the high side-ponytail of some chick I wasn’t friends with or didn’t talk to–or maybe I did–we’re going back 20ish years here–and at the yelping and “Owwwww”-ing of this girl, X turned around. He came over and told snotty brat to stop pulling unknown girl’s hair and to apologize. Then he walked away.

And between his cuteness and the goodness of his heart, I was hooked. I couldn’t wait for the end of the day when he took our line to the bus. And then I entered 1st grade and Matt was my next target.

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One thought on “The First Crush Story

  1. Preschool: his name was Andrew and he wore Burt and Ernie slippers. His parents owned the daycare and lived upstairs. I was the only kid allowed upstairs to play with his miniture pool table. He came to my birthday party and brought me a Jem (remember Jem??) barbie. I loved him!

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