I met you when I was six years old, not knowing how my future would be shaped by my feelings for you. Growing up in San Diego, there were a lot of little blonde haired girls. I was the red headed girl with the freckles. I guess that wasnt so bad, because I caught your eye.
Your parents had a house down the street from my aunt and uncle's home. You were there every summer like clockwork. After I moved away from San Diego, I'd still go down for summer vacation. There was always a one or two day period where all of the summer kids would start to wander around and find one another.
I always looked for you first.
You looked like a six year old Mary Ingall's from Little House on the Prairie. I loved your blue eyes and I didnt know why. I always felt 'funny' around you and never wanted to be far from you. I wondered what that was about?
When other kids would tease me about having red hair, freckles, bad teeth, you would tell them silly things like, "Someday you'll see her in Annie", or, "She's beautiful, you're just mean". Simple things that no six or seven year old should know how to say. You were beyond your years. You acted at least ten or eleven.
I remember the last summer I saw you. Your parents were selling their summer home in Kensington, so you wouldnt be back. I was crushed, but your parents took us to dinner at a fancy Chinese place. It was a lot of fun. You said I was great with chopsticks and they played a lot of Lionel Richie. I'm only now thinking that that seems a little odd for a fancy Chinese food restaurant.
At the end of the night, we sat on your front steps. Beautiful clay and marble as many of the old San Diego homes in the hills had. The air smelled like the ocean, one of my favorite smells, and you, smelled like Suave.
I used some allowance money to buy you a necklace. Probably the type now that would turn someone's neck green after one wear, but you loved it. I gave it to you on those steps, with Lionel Richie running through my mind and wondering why I wanted to kiss a girl so badly. At seven years old.
You started to say something, but stopped. It seemed prolific, but try as I might, and I did, for about an hour, I couldnt get you to tell me. I think you were going to tell me you liked me too.
You didnt have to say it.
Your parents came out and said it was time to say goodbye. You gave me a real hug and said that maybe we'd go to school together someday. I stood there at ten o' clock at night, even after you closed the door behind you.
My walk was only about four blocks, but I cried crocodile tears the whole way. I missed you for a long time, but, as life does, it went on. You're probably married with children and college educated. Even now though, thirty some odd years later, I still think of you fondly every time I hear Lionel Richie. I wonder if I ever cross your mind?
