My First Love
The montissori I went to had two grades. She was on the second and I was in the first. The first time I saw her, she was drawing something on the dirt. Instantly I fell in love with her (In fact I don’t really know what I felt. But like to think this way)… Later, I found out she was a talented dancer. Teachers didn’t let anyone see her while she practised for the annual concert. We were all dumbfounded when we finally saw her, dancing like a fairy princess. To this day, I haven’t seen any child dance better. Her movements weren’t the awkward, childish ones we see all the time with kids. Instead they were smooth and sophisticated..The greatest obstacle for me in befriending her was that we were in two different grades. The only time I could even see her was the half hour interval they gave us. I really wanted to talk to her, except I didn’t have the guts to approach her. I had no problem with dealing with other girls. But this girl was different. This girl was special… I was a precautious child. I could write sentences, something most other montissori kids couldn’t. So I wrote a note to her. On a piece of paper I wrote, “I like you.” I gave it to another girl to give it to her and tell her who wrote it. She did what she’s told. But I had made a grave mistake. I had assumed that my sweetheart could read. She couldn’t. So she gave it to her mother. She didn’t go ballistic. But she informed the teachers. They informed my mother, and everybody else. So now the whole montissori knew about us.. Nothing bad really came out of all that. We did become friends, but the teachers always had an eye on us. Those days, my hobby was collecting stickers (In fact, it is still my hobby. I have about 15,000 stickers). Everyday, I gave her a sticker. Everyday she gave me some of the biscuits she brought. Once she asked me what I wanted to become when I grow up.” An engineer”, I answered. “Don’t be. Be a driver”, she advised wisely. I asked her what did she want to become when she grew up. “I’ll be a mom”, she replied..On the last day she came to the montissori, I kissed her. I thought about kissing her on her cheeks. But everybody seemed to do that to everybody. I’d seen something my dad do to my mom. I kissed her forehead. We were of the same height, so I had to stand on my toes. That’s the last day I saw her.