Ah my blog is full of mush. Last time around, Blog-a-ton took me down the memory lane. This post, it is Blogadda’s contest has taken me way back, back almost 10 years. To the memories of my first crush.
The crazy rush of emotions. The feeling that this is it. Forever. That this indeed is love, true love. How can I ever forget that feeling? And more importantly, how could I ever forget him?
I still remember that day like it was actually happening all over again, right now. I was 12 yrs old. I was on my way to dance class, I oh so hated. I loved my hockey practice and almost tried to dance my way out of dance class. But I always ended up giving in to my mother’s stern looks.
It was one such class that I sat grumpily waiting for the class to start. I hate being there and the teacher was late. Claustrophobic, as I am, I decided not to wait around any longer and wander around. I convinced one of my friends to come along. As we were about to leave, I saw him running. His hair flying in the air. I hated boys with long hair, until that day. Books in his hand and glasses that made him look like the smartest person I knew.
It was since that day that I loved my dance class. My mother was absolutely surprised, wait, shocked to see my enthusiasm. I waited eagerly for these weekly classes and the days that I didn’t see him, my mood would plummet making my parents, wonder what was wrong. It was one such bad moods days that got my mother worried. I hadn’t seen him in 3 classes now, that was almost 3 weeks. My 12yr old heart could take no more and I rushed home crying. My mother sat me down and refused to go away till I told her what was the matter. I finally gave in. I told her about my mystery guy and the “love” I felt for him.
I was so afraid she would laugh. 12 yr old and love? As I heard myself say all that aloud to my mother, I laughed and realized how ridiculous I sounded. Weirdly, the deep dark secret, I “had” to hide withered away as soon as I opened my mouth and told my mother. My mother looked at me with a look that conveyed understanding, the understanding of being there and having felt that.
A hug later and a few tears later, we were in the kitchen, over a cup of hot chocolate, I tried to convince my mother that I wanted an out of the dance class and this time, she said, now, I was grown up and I could make my own decisions. Confused, I decided to give dance another chance.
Oh btw, that was the day, when I began my life long relationship with chocolate. That is one relationship, I don’t see ending anytime soon.