Just Passing By

When you talk about people leaving marks (and scars) on you, I guess you can’t avoid the subject of first love. Just a side note for my kids who I know will be reading this, know that this happened a long time ago, years before I met Daddy.

It was the first day of high school, almost 20 years ago. The warning bell rang and Mrs. De Guzman asked us to stand for the customary prayer to end the class.

That’s when I saw him – well, his back at least. He was tall, taller than most
of my classmates. He was also wearing civilian clothes. Being the first day of school, newcomers were not expected to wear the school uniform until the end of the week. He was wearing a polo shirt with the short sleeves rolled up higher and paired that with lavender-colored baggy pants. Punk rock was the rage then and kids my age wore pastel colored pants and mismatched shoes. I thought he was cute although my friends didn’t think so. They thought he was too cocky. He walked like he owned the world – there was a certain bounce to his steps and a hint of narcissistic self-confidence. For the next few weeks, I admired him from my third row seat. Being the tallest, he looked awkward there in the front row.

There was no official date when it became Us. Now that I think about it, he didn’t even make “ligaw”. He sent one single love note that wasn’t even in his handwriting. He would often walk me home after school even though his house was the other way. Ours was a very carefree and uncomplicated relationship. We didn’t even try to kiss. Such was the tender innocence of first love. Sure we held hands while we walked around the campus or when he sits beside me in class. He would reach for my hand from under the desk and we’d stay that way for the whole period. We were young and in love. Life was beautiful!

I’ll spare the details of the bliss and the pains of that first love. It is enough to point out how those memories and images of him from that lifetime stayed with me. I’ve moved on and grew up after the break up but there weren’t a lot of experiences that were more intense or as overwhelming or as heartbreaking than my first love.

I know that my kids, Nikki and Goji, will have their first loves too. My only hope is that they survive that experience whole and emerge to be better persons as a result.