You can’t help but think about love these days.  It’s all over the place as the hype heats up for Valentine’s Day.  I’m not at all into that, as it has always seemed like a totally contrived day to sell stuff; I would prefer my romance on any day but that one.

I am definitely in favor of true love, though.  I like thinking about my own history of it.  It’s a  history over a long period of time with a very short number of players, lucky me.   A while back I wrote this little poem about my first true crush, proving that some poignant memories simply live forever.

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8TH GRADE WOMAN   (1953)

What makes that day different is

An imperceptible shift in vision,

An ordinary classroom transformed

By a pulse of translucent light

That perhaps only I can see.

There he is, seated where he always sits,

Upright, attentive, unaware of me as I

Gaze with new eyes at his male grace.

Lee, his name sings to me–Lee, Lee.

Yesterday, a boy unworthy of notice,

Today, the center of the universe.

The absolute cleanliness of him

Clutches at my heart, I am nearly

Brought to unexplainable tears.

His neck rises delicately above the open

Collar of his white shirt, and long sleeves

Are rolled precisely to his elbows.

I barely breathe in the presence of such beauty.

How fortunate that I am well-dressed today

In red poodle skirt with crinolines and

Stylish saddle shoes.

I have crossed the imaginary line that

Edges childhood, and I cannot

Un-know what I know:

I am female.

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Time and maturity eventually move us on beyond the bittersweet time of crushes and their inevitable heartaches.  My one true love knocked on my door forty-two years ago.  I think it was around about the fortieth year that I gifted him with this little summary of those years, from the beginning to the present.

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I LOVED YOU THEN, I LOVE YOU NOW

Lithe limbs tangle

In wrinkled bedclothes,

Hot urgency and

Need are unrelenting.

Breathing shared air,

Hands seek the pungent

Secrets of one’s youthful lover,

And flawless bodies expect to be

Impervious to time.

 then. . .

Decades gone, and lovers still.

More sweet tranquility

Than urgency, and yet . .

A ripeness of imperfections

Replaces vigorous youth,

And how welcome!

Bodies embrace with warmth,

Explore with infinite delicacy,

Mindless of time.

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So I wish all the lovers of the world a happy celebration on many days, even February 14th if you must.

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When you love somebody your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you.                                          Karen, age 7