There is a first time for everything. The first day at school, the first time you fall in love. I was 13 years old and it was Easter. I was visiting my family in Germany and there he was.. my first love. Same age and wham it hit me. The language was no problem, due to the many visits to my uncle I spoke excellent German and besides, the language of love is universal, don’t you think?
As we walked hand in hand through the narrow streets we were spotted by my great aunt. She would have made the final round for the auditions as wicked stepmother in Cinderella. An old lady with long grey hair where all signs of happiness had dripped out throughout the years. She called for me and asked me what I was thinking… hanging around with that boy.
The boy was trash, being the nephew of her daughter in law. Not the sort of people we (with that she meant me and my side of the family including herself) were to socialize with. She must have had a lot of disappointment in love and not have been aware of the power of love, because her speech went in one ear and out the other one. The butterflies in my stomach were flying even harder after talking to her.
At the end of the visit, the saying goodbye broke my heart. Every mile further away from him seemed to hurt. As I got home I wrote love letters. The dictionary at my side, to make sure I got the spelling and grammar right. Needless to say my grades for German went sky high. Every cent I got I saved for a train ticket to go and see him again.
Finally the day came, I went to Germany again. My heart pounding and full of expectations I got on the train. In my head I had this vision of him meeting me at the station and me running in slow motion towards him with open arms, violins playing to add to the drama of the moment. This scene was interrupted by the scratch of a needle on a record.. ending the violin music… At the station I saw my aunt.. alone. No boyfriend.. I kept thinking.. Ah he might have waited in the car.. but no.. No boyfriend.
The next day he came. Walking hand in hand through the narrow streets again he mumbled something about him breaking up with a girl, especially for me. My first shock about the rudeness of men was a fact. We spent one day together. Butterflies all around and again came the saying goodbye. The promise of writing was made.
I think I may have written about 100 letters to him. I got three letters in return in all those years. In one of them he again told me he was seeing someone else.. I only saw him a few times.
My father used to laugh about my first love. I had other boyfriends too. Every time I broke up with one, I used to put the frame with my first love beside my bed. My father used to joke and say.. Well I see you got number one out of the attic again.
My first love was a lesson in love. My effort to see him was larger than his. The only effort he made, was to get rid of the girl he was seeing at that time for a day, to see me. Not really an equal relationship., but I didn’t see that at that age. I was about to learn so much more about love. My ideas about fairy tale love have become somewhat realistic by now.
