FIrst Loves Blogfest

First book love

The first full length novel I have ever read was LITTLE HOUSE IN THE BIG WOODS by Laura Ingalls Wilder. It was handed to me by my second grade teacher Mrs. Thompkins with the promise that if I finished it I would be given a candy bar, a big one. Several weeks later I had a full size Hershey milk chocolate bar in my hand (sad that I still remember the kind) and eight more books to read. Lovely, lovely Mrs. Thompkins.

First movie love

The first move I ever saw at a drive-in was Return of the Jedi. My parents loaded us up, all in our footie pajamas (standard drive-in attire) into the back of our station wagon. They had the seats down before we left the house so we spent the drive rolling from one side of the car to the other. Once we got there my dad brought out a big greasy paper bag full of the buttered popcorn he’d spent the afternoon making. I don’t remember much about the movie, but I do remember having a wonderful time. I take my own kids to the drive-in now, and they wear footie pajamas, and I make a big brown paper bag full of buttered popcorn. I don’t pull down the back seat until we get there, though. Some of the seat belt laws have changed since the 1980s.

First kiss love

I had my first kiss when I was thirteen. My parents dropped me off at the movie with my sister. At least that’s what they thought they were doing. In actuality we were meeting two boys there. I didn’t even watch the movie. I was too busy wondering when “it” was going to happen. My sister had spent the entire time with her lips locked with the guy to my right; but me? Nothing. By the time the credits were rolling down the screen I was desperate. I turned to him and said, and I quote, “Are you going to make out with me or what?” He looked surprised, but did it. And it wasn’t half bad. But it wasn’t the romantic thing I’d hoped it would be. That might have had something to do with me, though.

First real love

My first real love was my husband. I know that sounds trite, and safe, but really he was. I was fifteen when I met him. He was twenty-one. I can still remember what he was wearing (a white tank top and black shorts). My husband has always been physically fit, but never so much as he was then, when he was fresh in the army, and worked out almost every day. I don’t know if it was love at first sight or not, but it was most definitely lust. My fifteen year old heart didn’t see anything wrong with the six year age difference. My parents? Not so much. But thankfully they saw past his physical side and saw the wonderful person he was, and still is.

That’s it, my Four First Loves. I can’t wait to read some of yours. I am counting on some serious literary inspiration.