First Crush, First Crash

The house in Drummond held a lot of firsts for me. First time to see a turtle (we previously lived in western Kansas where it was too dry for turtles), first memory of a bad haircut, and first crush on a girl. It was the summer of 1976, and I was looking good in my burgundy bell-bottoms.  As usual, I spent time in the front yard under the shade trees playing with my Hot Wheels. I would spend an hour setting up the area where the cars would be driving and crashing and rolling and flipping. Hot Wheels could occupy half of my day. They were, and still are, one of the greatest inventions in the world. A side note: My brother was a loud kid, so my mom always knew where he was. I was very quiet and could easily entertain myself. I often saw my mom come around the corner in a panic because she hadn't heard from me in an hour or two. Such was the case this early summer day. Mom opened the front door and yelled my name since she couldn't see me behind the big brick pillar that was on the porch. I stood up worried that I was going to be in trouble. But mom saw me, smiled, and went back into the house. As the races commenced and the Hot Wheels rolled, an unfamiliar car pulled into the driveway next door to our house. There was a man behind the wheel, a woman in the passenger's seat and a brown haired angel sent from heaven in the back seat. It was the first time I recognized that girls were different. Not the physical body differences. I had no idea about all that stuff. What I knew that was different was intangible. I felt my mouth hanging open and every blink was in slow motion as she emerged from the Vista Cruiser. I would later discover that she was the granddaughter of our neighbors and she was here to spend a few weeks with grandma and grandpa. I was nervous to go say hello. I had always been shy around people I didn't know, but I had the new feeling of nervousness coursing through my four year old electrical system. After the parents had stayed a couple of days, they took off to wherever they came from and left my first crush a mere thirty feet from my front door. Over the next three weeks, she and I played cars, swings, tag, and house (I figured she suffered through Hot Wheels play, so I should suffer through tea time with the wife and stuffed animal kids.) I shared my lunch with her. I even sacrificed one of my chocolate chip cookies so that she wouldn't be left out. I was totally smitten with her, even if I didn't know what smitten meant. The world could not have been a better place. Count Chocula in the morning, bologna sandwiches at lunch, chocolate chip cookies with my girl in the afternoon. One afternoon I asked my mom if I could take a cookie over to the girl next door. She smiled and said that I sure could. Off I went with a soft tasty cookie in each hand. I knocked on the neighbor's door with my foot since my hands were occupied. The elderly lady came to the door and said hello. I asked if I could give a cookie to her granddaughter. She said that I couldn't. Her granddaughter had gone home with her mom and dad early that morning. I was devastated.  The only girl I had ever loved up to that point had left me. I didn't know what to say. Another first was coming on. Depression. The old lady said she was sorry, told me to have a good day, and closed the door. I stood staring at the silver screen door for what seemed like a full ten minutes. I turned around and sat down on the steps of their front porch, sighed heavily and ate both of the cookies. I don't remember the girl's name, but I will always remember how she stepped in and out of my life so quickly. That's the case with so many people in my life. That's why I enjoy you as much as I can while your with me. Because tomorrow you may take off in the Vista Cruiser and I will have to eat your chocolate chip cookie.

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