These Monday Memories posts always end up being embarrassing stories about me. I can’t seem to remember anything else. Of course, when you are a kid all stories about love are a little awkward. Those memories are the stuff Cooties are made of.
When I was in first grade I was in love with a boy named Richie. He was short, obviously, with sandy brown hair and blue eyes. I thought he was the cats meow. I would stay up thinking about him late into the night. My parents made me go to bed at 7:30 pm so when I say “late into the night” I mean like 7:45 pm. At the time I was reading Richie Rich comics and so I was pretty sure that when Richie and I grew up we would get married and live in a mansion. We’d have a giant swimming pool and I would carry gold coins around in a sack. I might be getting this confused with another cultural reference, but bear with me here. Memories are a fuzzy thing.
For Valentine’s Day that year I made some cards for my classmates. I had received a kit from someone (probably my Grandma) that had cards you could pop out and assemble. I saved the best one for Richie. It had a boy and a girl holding hands. The girl was holding a bouquet of flowers. It said, “I love you.” At school we had little mailboxes on our desks and so we went around putting all of the cards in the proper mailboxes right before our party started. We ate cupcakes and drank Kool-aid. Then we went home.
That night I developed a severe earache and ended up staying home from school for about a week. I was really sick. I was in a lot of pain. I secretly wondered what Richie thought about my Valentine. With all of that time to think about what I had done I started to get nervous. Maybe he would think I was weird. Maybe it was all just a bad dream. I was hoping it was an earache induced hallucination. That Valentine’s Day hadn’t actually happened yet.
When I finally went back to school nobody mentioned my Valentine card to Richie. He must not have told anyone about it. The only difference was he was a lot nicer to me for the rest of the year. At least, I thought he was. I remember he wanted to play with me at recess and sat next to me during lunch. Unfortunately, it was only a mere, few months later that I developed a new crush on a boy named Matthew. I guess that is another story for the history books. Or, another post for Monday Memories just begging to be written.
Check out Quirky Chrissy (Mastermind of Monday Memories – AKA as her first step towards world domination): Monday Memories Because THAT Holiday Is Totally Stupid.