There is a story is about my first love. When I was in my first year of High School in Colombia (Instituto Pedagogico Nacional) there was a boy named Alberto Parra. He had a nickname that starts with the letter P (I am not giving any more details on his identity). He wasn't my boyfriend, but, we could sense that there was something between us. There was a period of time when our teacher sat him next to me in the front row. That was a memorable experience for me.
At times we wrote little notes to each other in during classes. When it was time for us to go home he would come with me to the main gate and in two or three occasions he walked me home. Once he held my hand to cross the street.
Because we were so young and we both were shy we could not move forward with a more serious relationship and besides we were kind of nervous about how our parents could react to it. But either way, the way he approached me, and talked to me led me feel special in spite of my deafness and I was the nerd of the class.
I don't remember exactly what happened, but the thing is that at the end of the school year, Alberto was transferred to a different school and I never heard from him again.
Unfortunately I don't have anything tangible that triggers this memory. It is all in my mind. I wish I saved something from him. But the memory of him is so vivid as if it happened recently. I remember his blonde hair and his cute face. The feeling of his hand holding mine when we crossed the street is still here. I can still feel my heart beating fast when I think of that moment. Honestly this feeling is pretty strong.
I am happy in my marriage. I love my husband to death, but when it comes to your first love, this is something that will stay in your heart forever. I often think of him and wonder where and how he is doing. I have tried to find him on the internet (My husband knows, by the way) without success.
I wish he is happy, doing good and in good health.
Signed, D., NJ (USA)
Thank you D. for sharing your story!
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Here's a story about something that I gave away, but have mixed feelings of doing so. I owned a black Bruce Springsteen Concert T-Shirt from the late 70's, when he played at Meadowlands Arena (Secaucus NJ), and decided a few years ago that didn't want to keep it any more, but I didn't just want to donate it (too many great memories going to see his concerts), so I decided to sell it on Ebay. It sold for something like $12 dollars and I was happy to ship it off to it's new owner (it was my first Ebay transaction).
Now, I just read that Springsteen just performed a benefit concert at the Count Basie Theater in Red Bank in May 2008, performing all the songs from the Darkness on the Edge of Town and Born To Run albums.
Wouldn't that have been so cool to be able to attend that historic concert in Red Bank, for one, and also to have been able to pull out my concert t-shirt from almost 30 years ago and wear it to the concert had I been able to go?
I guess that's why it's so hard for some of us to let go of our stuff; to one person, it might just be "only a t-shirt". To me, it's a flood of memories from high school, the great memories of going to a Bruce Springsteen concert with friends back in the late 70's, the images and feelings brought back so vividly after almost 30 years, and then reading about the recent benefit concert and imaging the possibilities of what it would've been like to be there, wearing the same shirt, and having another chance to re-live the excitement again.
Here's to the Glory Days....