I was 14 and in the seventh grade. Since I was homeschooled, I had most of my classes at home, but on Mondays I attended a home school co-op that offered enrichment classes to help accelerate my educational experience. Every Monday, I would meet up with my two best friends Michelle and Chelsea, and we would walk to Pre-Algebra and talk about what happened on Survivor or Gilmore Girls the night before. After class we would immediately go to the gym to eat lunch with all the other students. It was in that gray, metal gym that I met him.
His name was Jeff, he was in the eighth grade, knew how to skateboard, and was apart of theatre club. To me, he was God’s gift to humanity. Jeff, with his multicolored braces and plaid shirts did not even know my name, but every time he walked in the room it was like angels were singing our own special song. I just knew he was the dreamiest boy alive. Jeff also played the guitar, and on Wednesday nights he would help lead worship at our church. As soon as I found out this information, I ran home and announced to my family that I believed I was given the gift of music, and I wanted to begin to take guitar lessons as soon as possible. I remember lying in bed at night, imagining that Jeff would hear me playing outside our school building someday, and wonder how he never noticed me before; this girl who could create such rhapsodies that left you spellbound. I knew that as soon as he heard me play, he would immediately fall in love with me and we would get married and live happily ever after.
Several weeks later I began to take guitar lessons and realized that it took hard work to be able to play, much less play pure magic that would cause world revolutions to occur. Jeff went on to high school, so we were separated, but I knew our souls would never be pulled apart. But as time passed, I realized that I hated playing that instrument and decided that the world, and Jeff would have to learn to love me through a different channel. Even more time passed and I found myself losing feelings for that exquisite boy. A year went by and I moved on to high school and ran into Jeff once more. We made eye contact, I smiled, and he stopped and asked, “Hi, I don’t think I know you. What is your name?” Yes, this boy that I silently pined for in middle school, now officially knew my name. My life was complete, or so I thought.
2 comments:
Great essay! :-) I remember the age, the guitar and the lessons, but I don't remember the crush. You were such a rock star!
It was a time when I still thought mom and dad finding out would be disastrous. haha.
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