(no subject)
I ran into the mother of my first love, Hilary Gittings, the other day at Walmart. Granted we were all of 14 when we 'dated', and folks wouldn't say it was much more than puppy love, but you will never hear me belittle puppy love. You can feel just as powerfully when you're 12 as you can when you're 22 or 32 or 42. She was my first kiss. I can still remember having to stand on my tiptoes to kiss her, and how she tasted of strawberries and chlorine. It's one of my most cherished and vivid memories. Her mom told me that she was just getting back from Germany, where she'd had her honeymoon. She married a guy we had gone to school with, a guy she dated after I had moved away. They'd apparently been together since high school, which is always kind of sweet, but I have to admit, I found myself getting a little wistful. More than a little. It's hard not to play the what-if game in situations like these. Mrs. Gittings asked me if I wanted Hilary's email address and I said sure, but I don't think I'm going to give her a buzz. I think I'll keep the memory instead.