My First Broken Heart

Day 292

I remember it as if happened only yesterday. She was a young adventuress with soft blond curls, big blue eyes and a toothy smile. She wore a baby doll dress and white ankle socks with frilly tops and shiny black shoes. And, oh, she smelled of Play Doh.

We met when she had ventured five houses down to my front yard. Five houses. No four year old was allowed to go five houses down the street by themselves, you had to have an adult with you, or at least, an older brother. I was only allowed to go to the neighbors driveway. I was sitting on my new three wheeler that I had gotten for my birthday when she came marching up and said, "Hi. I'm on vacation."

Up until then I only had my brothers to for company. There was another boy my age next door named Butch. He wasn't very honest and told fibs all of the time. I wasn't allowed to play with him because he had thrown a rock at me, then told his parents that I had thrown a rock at him first. But I never threw rocks because someone could get hurt very badly.

This was the first girl I had ever met outside of Sunday school. My grandma had told me I had to be nice to girls. So I said, "Hi. My name is Ken."

"Oh," she said. "I can't tell you my name."

"Why not?"

" 'Cause you're a stranger."

"I'm not a stranger. I'm too little to be a stranger."

"Well then," she said, "My name is Emily. I have Play Doh. Wanna see?" I nodded as she pulled a glob of pinkish clay out of a pocket. It was fairly new with just a little bit of pocket lint stuck to it. We took turns molding the clay into different shapes until she decided to go home.

She returned the next day and we played in my front yard (I wasn't brave enough to go to her yard). This went on for about a week. Then she stopped coming. At first I thought she must have come by while I was inside (which wasn't often). Then I thought, she really wasn't suppose to come down the street as far as my house and her mom had found out and she was in trouble.  After a few days I was very sad because we had so much fun together. Finally, one day, she showed up again at my front yard. I was so happy.

"I have to go back home," Emily said. "My mommy told me I'm too young to play with boys. She said you boys are mean and stupid anyway. Besides, we're going to be moving soon. So I don't want to play with you anymore." She turned around and walked back to her house.

I didn't understand. I wasn't mean. Moving? Moving to where? I stood there with tears welling in my eyes at the hurtful words. I went inside the house and dove on the living room couch. Thinking of the matter of fact way she had spoken to me. I was devastated. A few shuddering breaths later, I fell asleep.

One day my mom asked me about my little friend. I repeated what her mom had said about boys and that she was moving. Mom told me that she had seen Emily playing with a boy that very morning and she was going to call Emily's mom and find out what was going on. A short time later I found my mom in the kitchen. She was baking cookies and looked really mad. I knew she wasn't mad at me when she gave me a cookie.

It turns out we were going to be moving to a much nicer neighborhood, and Emily's mom was jealous. That's why she told her those awful things about us. I never did see Emily again and my mom wouldn't have let me play with her if I had. It wasn't long before we moved and I had plenty to keep my mind busy. Still, every so often, I would think about the girl with the golden curls and try to remember why I hadn't seen her before we moved.

Time heals a young heart.

Until tomorrow,

Ken