love at first sight
It was a dark and stormy night —
No, wait, I am saving that one for “enormously original openings.”
Okay. Actually, it was a sunny day. Kind of hot. A boring sort of sunny day in Los Angeles. There are many sunny days in Los Angeles. Most of them are sort of hot. I was eight. And we were on the way to my grandmother’s house.
I am not making that up. We really were on the way to my grandmother’s house. [Now I probably have to pay a royalty to the creators of some Christmas jingle. Oh the pain.] Who lived somewhere in Los Angeles I could not tell you, me having no sense of direction. Not then, not now, not ever. “We” being my parents, my [annoying but bigger and stronger than me so I had to rule with fear] little brother, and I.
[Say, did you see that pronoun? Nifty, huh? I do not do that often either. Use the right pronoun. I don’t like “right” pronouns. Mark your calendars.]
We stopped at a red light.
And there he was.
This kid with a skateboard. Standing at the curb. Waiting for the light to change. Looking back at me.
I was in love.
I was eight years old.
And there is no way in hell you can say, when you are eight years old, Stop the car, that is the love of my life, always has been, always will be, stop the car.
The light changed.
We pulled away.
And I have never seen him since.
I remember him though.