What They Don't Tell You

To the Boy I Love(d)?

What they don't tell you is that every time someone lets you down, it chips away a piece of your heart.

They say you can't start the next chapter of your life if you keep re-reading the last one. But what is life if you forget the story of what was? What are you doing to your soul if you erase the sweet moments of past ecstasy from your memory? Sometimes it's not enough to live chapter by chapter. Sometimes you must re-read the pages of your journey.

Just as you pick up your favorite book, time and time again. You are re-introduced to your characters' deepest sorrows but you re-read. Happiness comes in waves and you know the world that is your book will crash again and again as adversity overtakes your heroine, but you re-read. You are addicted to the brutal reality of emotions in all of their glory. You re-read and re-read. So it is for me. I must re-read.

It is my hope that one day, I will be able to place my book safely on a high shelf, where it will be out of sight and mostly out of mind. I pray for the memories to grow less vivid in my heart, but for their life to be preserved in complete vibrancy within those blessed pages. Sacred stories told in truth and vulnerability. They are so precious that they can't ever be destroyed, but I still hope that one day I will remember them less and my heart will grow stronger as the years continue.

Until then, here is my book. And here is how it all started:

My family had just moved to Idaho. We arrived in October so the world around us was slowly growing colder and darker but silently beautiful as the leaves fell from the trees and blanketed the streets in gold and red. Along with my family, I was religious at the time. We found a church and began our integration into the community.

The first time I saw him was from across the pews. My chin was rested on my folded hands and my eyes were focused on the alter. The bells chimed and everyone stood. He stepped into the isle in his dark skinny jeans and I thought, "Chicken legs." Two words. Two harmless words that made me grin. Closing prayers were said and he was gone. I forgot about him.

I was reserved but not opposed to making friends. Youth group was foreign to me since our previous church hadn't had such an active community as this one, but I was curious as to the goings on so I went with my brother. During an ice-breaker, we were paired in a group with him. His braces were prominent and drew my eye to his lopsided smile. Sparkling, green-caramel eyes looked down at me and I felt my face turn warm. He and my brother seemed alike in their adolescence, but he stood taller and I felt small. This time he left, but I did not forget.

Months passed and July came around. His glistening eyes only visited me in my dreams from time to time. I boarded a plane for California to see my childhood best-friend. Boy-talk was a staple in our relationship so the conversation naturally lent itself to crushes and cooties. She detected my hesitancy to divulge and prodded until I caved. Details were few and far between as nothing had happened, but I outlined for her the charming features he possessed and the occasional dreams. She poked good fun and that was that.

I was back in the airport in a week's time and getting ready to board for Idaho. Whether my decision to post a selfie while I waited for my delayed flight was fate or bad fortune, I will let you (the reader) decide. He responded to my public display of loneliness, "You look bored." I don't remember if I trembled or if the airport had a draft, but my hands felt jittery as I opened the message. The exact words I sent escape me, but he kept responding. He kept responding and I kept responding to his responses and it went on for a few blissful minutes. The encounter ended with him inviting me to another youth group activity the following week. I accepted. Then I boarded my plane.

The next week arrived with the sloth of a night person in the morning. I walked up the steps and through the towering, wooden doors to the church where the devotion was being held. My subconscious looked for him in the crowd. My eyes wandered over the veiled heads of the pious churchgoers in the sanctuary as my soul sought him out. I spotted his family and a tingle of anticipation shot up the back of my neck. I realized though, that he was sitting a few pews ahead next to a slim, blonde girl. As soon as the butterflies entered my stomach, they flew back out. I suddenly felt self conscious and ashamed. Ducking into the back pew, I knelt and hid my blushing face. As the devotion went on, I stole nervous glances at the two. They were sitting awfully close and the sinking feeling in my stomach grew heavier and heavier as the minutes drug on.

The devotion ended and I was rushed outside with the flow of young people all chattering and exchanging laughs. I had come alone and knew no one so I stood to the side, trying to keep my mind off of my wobbly knees. She came out with him. They were stuck to each others side. I instantly regretted the small jump of faith I'd taken when I accepted his seemingly personal invitation. I had never appreciated being unnoticed more than I did that night. I exited stage right and drove away from the embarrassment that was my naivete.