Day 3: Your first love
I know that most people would immediately go to their puppy love of teen ages years. I have already done that in a previous post.
So I decided to go a little further back then that. Now I am sure you are wondering how I could call it my first love if I was a little kid. Well sit back and relax while I explain.
When I was three years old, my next door neighbors grandson, Patrick, came to stay with her. Since my mom was best friends with Ms. Frances, they were always together. Therefore, Patrick and I were always together.
Patrick was a year younger then me and had hair that was fiery red. His face was sprinkled with freckles. We were together so much that we were almost like brother and sister.
I am the short girl in the white shirt. You would think by this picture that the kid with his arm around me would be Patrick. I don’t actually remember who that kid was. Patrick is the boy with the white shirt and number 11 on it. That picture was taken out beneath “The Tree”. Growing up, it seemed that all us kids in the neighborhood would just gather around this tree and hang out all day.
However, when we were about 5 or 6, we decided that we were going to get married. We would plan on everything that we would do when we got older and could marry.
I was going to be a housekeeper like my mom. At the time my mom hadn’t completed nursing school yet. But I still wanted to be just like her.
We even picked out a house. If you could even call it a house. It was this ramshackle broken down house that was on Johnson Street. Even back then it was so dilapidated that it looked like a small wind could knock it over. But in our childish minds, it seemed like a mansion.
I remember that any time I would get upset with Patrick, I would say that I was going to marry Dr. Berndt instead of him. He would usually yell back for me to just go ahead and marry old Dr. Berndt.
Years later, Patrick went back to live with his mom in Colorado. However, he would still come and stay with Ms. Frances over the summer. I would always look forward to the times that he would come to visit.
Eventually, Ms. Frances moved away to Texas. So I no longer had any contact directly with Patrick. I would hear about him from Ms. Frances when she would call or write to my mom.
When my mom passed away a few years ago, I lost contact with Ms. Frances. It was too difficult for me to talk with her. By talking to her, I would automatically think of my mom. I wish now that I had kept in contact with her. I miss her greatly. She was like a second mom to me.
Unfortunately, at this point in time, I have no idea where to even contact her at.
Who was your first love?