Memories

Reading Spacecheese’s entry about his young romance reminded me of my own.

Her name was Annette. I think. Memory fades. I can remember Deanna Boyette, who was the obnoxious girl in third and fourth grade who always kicked me in the shins, but I can’t remember Annette’s last name name. Or maybe her first. It might have been Amanda. I don’t think so, though.

She had dark hair, dark eyes, she might even have been Hispanic, or perhaps just Mediterranean, since I remember her being sort of darkly complected. She wore dresses, as little girls did in those days.

It must have been in 1st Grade. We always walked home together, since we lived near each other. And we’d talk about getting married. There was a house along the way, where the front yard consisted of a huge pine tree and a concrete pool that was never full of anything except needles. And that was the house we were going to live in, and we’d make the pool a swimming pool, and that would be really cool.

And I remember the day I inadvertently got on the school bus (because the teacher said everyone get on, and I didn’t correlate that with the idea that I was one of the few kids who didn’t ride the bus, so the teacher must have been simply generalizing.

Anyway I got on the bus, and there was Annette, on the sidewalk, looking confused and even a little hurt (I imagine now). And we drove off, and I figured out my mistake too late (story of my life) and eventually got off at the first stop, and had to cross a busy street to get home, and I don’t know that I’ve ever told this story to my folks (surprise, Mom).

At any rate, we moved away after the 1st grade, and I never saw her again, but that “Ah, we’re going together, so we’re going to get married” attitude toward romance stuck with me to this day. And it seems to have worked out quite nicely this time.

Which is probably why I’m writing this, since I’m thinking about being away in Oak Ridge next week, and already missing Margie.

But I do wonder, sometimes, how her life turned out.