My first kiss
This is an essay I started, but never really finished, therefore it's basically a rough draft, but you'll get the idea....
James
It's always been "James". Never Jimmy or Jim or Jamie. Even at 12, James was "James". It never occured to me for it to be any other way. The first time I laid eyes on him was on the bright orange-yellow schoolbus that took us home from middle school. I was in 8th grade, he was in 7th. I was invited over to his house to ride bikes after school and when I rode up, there he sat......jet black hair, bronzed skin and brooding gray eyes. He was shirtless and wearing cut off jeans. I loved him immediately. I got my very first kiss from him standing under a huge oak tree in my front yard. We had just returned from his 13th birthday party, he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt; I was in black parachute pants and a white & pink mesh top, and he had walked me home. Under the stars and with a cool breeze in the night, he kissed me. I'd love to say it was romantic and swept me off my feet, but I thought it was gross and slobbery! The fact that I was taller than him didn't help much, either. We rode our bikes through "the desert", a barren patch of land just outside the housing plat he lived in, and owned by my father. He made me laugh and I thought he was the cutest boy on earth. We spent a glorious 6 weeks "going together" and then we just....weren't. No fights, no publisized breakup, we just gradually stopped calling and seeing each other. A couple years went by and we were now in high school. I was a junior, he a sophmore. Again, we ran into each other on that same school bus. He looked at me with the same eyes and smiled that same mischievieous grin and I was in love again. We had another whirlwind romance, another wonderful 6 weeks together and then I had to move. My parents were divorced and had been battling out custody issues for years. I felt like a human tug-rope. My dad had had me, now it was mom's turn. I was sad to leave James, but somehow knew it wouldn't be the end.
I graduated high school, got married and moved to Alaska. Turns out I married too young and so I came back home in January of 1992. I was staying at my dad's house temporarily until I could get on my feet and get my own place. The phone rang one day and a guy was asking for my sister. I said she wasn't there and he asked "Is this Carey?". I replied that it was and asked to whom was I speaking. He said "It's James!". My heart started beating furiously in my chest and I got all flushed. He suggested I come over to a neighbor's house that evening to play cards. I thought I would die with anitcipation. It had been 5 years since I had last seen him. I was walking over to the neighbor's later and caught someone walking towards me out of the corner of my eye. Tall, about 5'11", dark hair, wickedly handsome. James had grown into a man! He got closer and my knees went weak. I smelled the scent of his cologne: Preferred Stock. 14 years later, I can still smell it. From that point on, we were inseparable & eventually moved in together. That's when my personal heaven turned into a veritable hell. My sweet James was a Jekyll & Hyde. He could charm you one second and rip your heart out the next. I spent the next 7 years allowing him to do both. We married, James went through 2 very difficult brain surgeries, we had a child. I honestly thought I would grow old with "my James". After so many years of emotional, mental, verbal, and physical abuse, I just could take no more. We separated in July of '99 and our divorce was final in March the following year. I'll never forget the date:
3-21-00. Almost as if God was telling me "Ok, Three, Two, One-- GO! It's time to start your new life!"
How do you fit 20 years of love, hate, laughter, tears, passion, lies, deceit, shame, pity, lust, frustrastion and anger into an essay? I don't know how. James will always be a part of me. We share a child together. He is a lost soul, though, and I'm not sure he will ever find happiness. He finds solace in a bottle, comfort in a line or a pill. He's approached me many times about a reconciliation, and- each time- my heart skips a beat, I wonder "Could it happen, could My James still be in there somewhere?"
Sadly, the answer is no. Sometimes love is not enough. Sometimes the pain outweighs anything and the risk for more is simply too great a gamble to play with one's heart.
James
It's always been "James". Never Jimmy or Jim or Jamie. Even at 12, James was "James". It never occured to me for it to be any other way. The first time I laid eyes on him was on the bright orange-yellow schoolbus that took us home from middle school. I was in 8th grade, he was in 7th. I was invited over to his house to ride bikes after school and when I rode up, there he sat......jet black hair, bronzed skin and brooding gray eyes. He was shirtless and wearing cut off jeans. I loved him immediately. I got my very first kiss from him standing under a huge oak tree in my front yard. We had just returned from his 13th birthday party, he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt; I was in black parachute pants and a white & pink mesh top, and he had walked me home. Under the stars and with a cool breeze in the night, he kissed me. I'd love to say it was romantic and swept me off my feet, but I thought it was gross and slobbery! The fact that I was taller than him didn't help much, either. We rode our bikes through "the desert", a barren patch of land just outside the housing plat he lived in, and owned by my father. He made me laugh and I thought he was the cutest boy on earth. We spent a glorious 6 weeks "going together" and then we just....weren't. No fights, no publisized breakup, we just gradually stopped calling and seeing each other. A couple years went by and we were now in high school. I was a junior, he a sophmore. Again, we ran into each other on that same school bus. He looked at me with the same eyes and smiled that same mischievieous grin and I was in love again. We had another whirlwind romance, another wonderful 6 weeks together and then I had to move. My parents were divorced and had been battling out custody issues for years. I felt like a human tug-rope. My dad had had me, now it was mom's turn. I was sad to leave James, but somehow knew it wouldn't be the end.
I graduated high school, got married and moved to Alaska. Turns out I married too young and so I came back home in January of 1992. I was staying at my dad's house temporarily until I could get on my feet and get my own place. The phone rang one day and a guy was asking for my sister. I said she wasn't there and he asked "Is this Carey?". I replied that it was and asked to whom was I speaking. He said "It's James!". My heart started beating furiously in my chest and I got all flushed. He suggested I come over to a neighbor's house that evening to play cards. I thought I would die with anitcipation. It had been 5 years since I had last seen him. I was walking over to the neighbor's later and caught someone walking towards me out of the corner of my eye. Tall, about 5'11", dark hair, wickedly handsome. James had grown into a man! He got closer and my knees went weak. I smelled the scent of his cologne: Preferred Stock. 14 years later, I can still smell it. From that point on, we were inseparable & eventually moved in together. That's when my personal heaven turned into a veritable hell. My sweet James was a Jekyll & Hyde. He could charm you one second and rip your heart out the next. I spent the next 7 years allowing him to do both. We married, James went through 2 very difficult brain surgeries, we had a child. I honestly thought I would grow old with "my James". After so many years of emotional, mental, verbal, and physical abuse, I just could take no more. We separated in July of '99 and our divorce was final in March the following year. I'll never forget the date:
3-21-00. Almost as if God was telling me "Ok, Three, Two, One-- GO! It's time to start your new life!"
How do you fit 20 years of love, hate, laughter, tears, passion, lies, deceit, shame, pity, lust, frustrastion and anger into an essay? I don't know how. James will always be a part of me. We share a child together. He is a lost soul, though, and I'm not sure he will ever find happiness. He finds solace in a bottle, comfort in a line or a pill. He's approached me many times about a reconciliation, and- each time- my heart skips a beat, I wonder "Could it happen, could My James still be in there somewhere?"
Sadly, the answer is no. Sometimes love is not enough. Sometimes the pain outweighs anything and the risk for more is simply too great a gamble to play with one's heart.
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