The first time I fell in love, I was 5 years old… he had eyes the color of dry beach sand, hair tightly coiled, black and shiny, his skin dark and smooth, we held hands and skipped along the street, never walking, we never walked; we whispered through the fence, and exchanged notes everyday, scribbled in our scrawny little-kid hand writings on hastily torn-out paper from our mothers’ notebooks, we exchanged the notes at the end of every day, it was just something we did, I always saved mine until after mummy had tucked me in for the night, then I got out my flashlight and read it under my covers, it was always just a few words, most of the time, it was simply… “I’m going to skip faster than you tomorrow” or “we should try a new game tomorrow” or “today was fun” or “you’re my bestest friend in the whole world”… sometimes I knew exactly what it would say, but I took my time reading it anyway.
The following day, we did it all over again. The first time we spoke on the phone, he called me and asked “will you be in school tomorrow?”, even though he knew I would be, I laughed and said yes, and I smiled throughout that day.
One day he told me, “my daddy says we’re moving”
My 5-year old world crashed.
He handed me a note as he got into the car. I held it in my hand and squeezed tight, the tears filling my eyes.
As the car faded in the distance, I opened the note and read “You’re my bestest friend in the whole world.
He was 5 years old.
Read the next on the series here 24 Years Old