Reconnecting with the Past

Saying Hello to your first love

Nineteen years old seems decades ago. Looking through snapshots sparks my memory and the figures move on the coated paper as I thumb through them. The year is almost forgotten without my pictures, but ingrained in my brain at the same time. I could never completely forget the summer when I met my first love, Will.

It’s funny the details we remember and the memories we forget. l had gone to a dance club downtown with my sister and best friend. I wore funky, striped rayon pants with a black tank top. He watched me dance for awhile before joining me on the dance floor. At the end of the night, he asked me for my number. I gave it to him even though I wasn’t really interested. I was flattered more then anything.

A few days went by before he called. He asked me out for a double date, and I invited a high school friend of mine. We met the two guys at the movies. My friend and I weren’t impressed by our dates, and we laughed about the scenario the whole ride home. I didn’t even have an opinion about Will.

But, Will called me the next day and for some reason I kept talking to him. Eventually we developed a great friendship, and he seemed smitten. He was in the Navy and during sub school he would write me love letters, pre-email, and mail them along with silly things like our names in made from bent paperclips wired together in a heart.

He kept telling me he loved me early in the relationship, and I told him he was infatuated. He couldn’t possibly love me in such a short time. I do remember the moment I fell in love with him though. We were sitting in a movie. Ironic how I can’t remember which movie, but a feeling came over me and hit me in the head like the weight of the world. I turned to him in the darkness and whispered, “I love you.”

From that moment on I was high on life. We enjoyed each others company as often as we could until he had to leave for his tour of duty. He was to be stationed in Hawaii on a sub for months at a time. He informally mentioned to me that we should get married. He was impetuous like that. I adored the way he wore his emotions on his sleeve in contrast to the steel armor I dressed in.

I told him I was entering into my sophomore year of college, and I couldn’t leave my university to transfer to a strange place. Later I realized I made the right choice but it didn’t seem like it then. He said we’d keep in touch through letters and that he’d fly me out to see him. The letters came in drabs. I wrote back with perseverance. I even called and left him a message or two that went unreturned. An invite never presented itself and soon the letters all but stopped. I was devastated. I cried each night for several months. I was depressed. I didn’t seem to care anymore about college. I wanted my love back.

I’m not sure what brought me out of my stupor. It might have been my good friends at school. Either way, I eventually snapped out of it and tucked my mementoes of my first love away in a small suitcase. I had cassette tapes of his favorite and our favorite songs, a polo gingham black and white shirt with his cologne sprayed on, one dog tag and his gold baby ring. But I thought of him often.

Occasionally, a waft of Will’s favorite cologne Eternity reminded me of him. One time, a whiff of that stopped me dead in my tracks at the mall. I literally froze for a few seconds and had goose bumps. I always wondered what happened to him and why? Was he still living? Did he get in with a bad crowd? Was he married? It’s hard moving on with no closure to a serious relationship, but I managed fine.

A year ago, I was cleaning out a dresser drawer and stumbled across a few love letters, a dog tag and a baby ring. I had parted with the other things and only kept the latter. I decided I no longer needed these items and that they should return to the rightful owner or his family. And I went on a mission to find my first love.

Your first love is always the hardest to forget. I’m not sure why it is so and not true for your second or third love. Maybe it’s because of the physical closeness that’s shared.

I sent a basic letter out to an address that I found on the Internet and I found him. Plus I sent him his ring and dog tag. He forgot he gave them to me. Will and I have just begun asking each other many questions. It’s neat. I find it very cathartic. I’m glad to find him alive. He’s married and has two children. He is a school teacher. He even sent me a photo and he looks the same except for the receding hairline. I’m happy for him.

I thought when I found him I’d just send him back his things and it would be final. I’m glad to know that he’s interested in staying in touch and reconnecting an old friendship. I have no disillusions about our reunion nor do I expect a thing. I know in my heart, he’ll always be my first love . . . but definitely not my last.