Most people don’t think of bloody knees and pouring rain as romantic. Of course, I’ve never really fit into the category “most people”. Most guys don’t think of dirty, wet girls as pretty either. Perhaps that was made this moment special. I had been riding my bike through massive puddles, in pouring rain, with two of my friends. Dawson, the guy I had had a crush on for most of my elementary school days and Peter, my first boyfriend. I was having the time of my life until my bike tire was steered right into an unseen pothole underneath nearly 8 inches of water.
My bike stopped abruptly. I, unlike my bike, did not. I went flying over the handlebars, head first into the puddle. My one knee probably needed stitches but it didn’t hurt. I wasn’t aware of the blood flowing down my leg but any pride I did have was flowing out my cut down my leg and into the gutter. The glasses I wore day in and day out came off my face in the same way I came off my bike. So to make matters worse, not only was I in the puddle covered with blood, dirt and water but I couldn’t find my glasses. Within seconds both Peter and Dawson were on their knees in the puddle with me searching carefully for my glasses. Dawson found them
An older person may not think that a child knows love partly because to them love is mostly associated with the feeling that has overcome all the barriers that have been erected over the years. A child knows no such barriers, so their heart is open to love more readily than an adults. I like to think my life has been filled with love. From the time I was little, through parents and relatives, and then with the added love for the special guys and friends. I also try to hold on to the love of a child. For it’s a child’s love that “…never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.” That is they type of love I want in my life. It is the type of love that the world desires.
Regardless of my feelings for Dawson I continued to go out with Peter for another 5 months. When the end approached I was quite aware of it’s coming, just by intuition and no other specific warning. Dawson came to me and took me aside after school and explained gently to me that Peter just wanted to be friends. I looked at him, I smiled, and then I said, “Okay.” I think I could’ve told him I’d been abducted by aliens and received the same response. “Are you okay?” he asked, more with a voice of unbelief than one of concern. I fully believe he expected
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