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First Love by Lawrence Deacon

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Her name was Shelley. It was in Year 6 and she had only arrived to the school that year. Sitting in front of me in class, one row over to my left, she was wearing a blue jumper and had her hair tried back in a pony tail. It was a warm spring day and the teacher had asked us to write an essay.

All the students had their heads down and were writing away hurriedly. Shelley was right handed and had her head down concentrating as well. I am left handed so while pretending to be working on my essay I could look directly at her.

The vision was more important than any school work that needed to be done, I found myself drifting away with her. Her light brown hair tied back with a blue ribbon, her soft skin, fresh and new like a seasoned peach. Her head shifted every now and again, tilting as though what she was writing needed more thought. The windows were open and in came a pleasant breeze, bringing with it the smell of flowers.
There in that class room at that time, I felt all was right with the world.

After some time, I was able to break out of my gaze and look at the clock. There was only a few moments left before the end of class. I tightened the grip on my pen and frantically scratched out something on paper, finishing a few seconds after the bell had gone. I handed it in hoping my mark would be good enough for a pass.

Maybe the breeze in that room that day cleared my head, or maybe what I felt for Shelley came through on my essay. But I was defiantly surprised to get an ĎAí for my work and it was the highest mark in the class.
Over the next weeks and months, I made an effort to sit next to here when I could and began speaking to her more and more. I canít remember any of the conversations we had, but I do remember her smile, she had dimples and when she showed them they would make me smile. One of my favourite things was making her laugh, her head went back and out would come a girlish giggle and when she laughed alot, tears would come out the corners of her eyes.
I felt something special just being near her. The end of the year came quickly enough and with it a new school. Shelley didnít join us at the local high school that most of us enrolled at, she went away. She had often moved house she once told me, and it seemed she did so again.

Growing up I use to wonder every now and again what happened to the girl with the bright smile and blue eyes that would twinkle as though she knew something that I didnít.
A few years ago I found her on Facebook (of all places). We had both joined a group about the primary school we had attended and she recognised herself in a class photo I had posted.
She is married now with four kids. At the time I was living in another suburb, from where I grew up and was astonished to find out she worked only two streets away.
It pleased me when she wrote to me saying she wished we had gone to the same high school together and that Year 6 was the best time she ever had in school. When I read that, the smell of those flowers coming in through the window came back to me.

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Updated August 17th, 2011 at 06:35 AM by pj2105

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