An Unsent Valentine Letter

I love Valentine's Day. It's a day to let those we love know that they have a special place in our heart,--spouse, boyfriend/girlfriend/children/friends. I usually post the Valentine story I had published in a Chicken Soup book. It's called Love In  A Box and is about me, my dad, and a valentine box.

Valentine stories are needed at children's magazines and adult ones, too. These publications get an abundance of Halloween and Christmas stories. Be different and send one for this special love day.

Have you ever written about your first love? Were you 10, 16, or 45 when Cupid drew his bow and aimed it straight at you? Think about writing a personal essay showcasing your first love. I wrote the one posted below quite some time ago. Sadly, I have never sent it because I lost track of my first boyfriend.

Happy Valentine's Day to all my writing friends and readers of this blog. You mean a lot to me.

An Unsent Valentine Letter

Dear Michael,

I suppose you’re called Mike now, but to me, you’ll always be Michael, the boy who was part of my life for so many years. My very first memory of you spirals back to kindergarten. We sat on the green rug with our classmates, all gathered close to Miss Horst’s chair as she read to us.

Your arm circled my shoulders, but suddenly our teacher stopped reading, cleared her throat and said, “Michael and Nancy, we do not sit that way.”
   
Never being one to be at a loss for words, I piped up immediately. “Oh, it’s OK, we’re going to get married.” A story told by our mothers for many years!
   
Yes, you were my boyfriend in kindergarten and on into our grade school years. We had our ups and downs, mostly because I pushed you away when other kids made fun of us. I still liked you, but I wouldn’t admit it to my friends. Never wanted to give them the chance to laugh at me for sticking with you, the boy they considered a wheeler-dealer and not the coolest guy in the class. I’m sorry about that now that I’m an adult and realize that you were the one who was my true friend, not those giggly girls I hung out with.
   
Do you remember the many days we walked home from school together? You carrying the big, shiny tuba that you played in the school band, and me carrying your books along with mine until we got to your corner. I handed over your books and trekked the rest of the way home alone. Quite a sight we must have been. You were always big for your age, and your dark hair, brown eyes and olive skin were such a contrast to my red hair, ivory-toned skin, and small stature.
   
Then the day came in Junior High that you told me you had three questions for me. We were at your house, just the two of us. You asked if I liked you. “Of course, I do,” I told you, my heart beating a little faster. The second question soon followed. “Will you go steady with me?”  We were about to start eighth grade, and the whole idea of being a couple scared me. Do you remember what I said? I’m not sure of the words I used, but I do remember that I turned you down in as nice a way as I could. By this time, my heart was pounding, and I felt the heat of a blush across my cheeks.
   
I’ll never forget what happened next. You looked so sad, put your hands in your pockets and mumbled, “Then I guess I don’t need to ask the third question.” And I knew I’d been saved from that first scary kiss. Innocence, immaturity, and fear of the unknown had produced my answers. I wonder now where our relationship might have gone had I agreed to go steady with you.
   
We went to different high schools, so I only saw you occasionally, mostly chatting on the phone. But who did I turn to when I didn’t have anyone special to invite to my graduation dance? Of course, it was you because I knew you’d come to my rescue. And you didn’t disappoint me. We had a great time that evening, didn’t we? I felt so elegant in my long white formal, and you looked great in a suit and tie. It was the last time we were together. As so often happens, we lost track of one another through college years and starting careers.
   
I wanted you to know that you have always had a special place in one corner of my heart. Thanks for treating me like a princess all through our grade school years. I learned something about loyalty from you and you helped me know the kind of man I wanted to spend my life with. I did find him. I hope you have a wife and family that have given you much joy through the years for you most certainly deserve it.

Fondly,
Nancy