Last night I was as I often do recalling my life at various stages and wondering what I would say if I were asked “when did you first fall in love?” and it brought back wonderfully sad and good memories. I first “fell in love” when at the tender age of 5 possible 6 my parents took me and my siblings to the Cherokee Indian Reservation which at that time becuase there were no Interstates took about 2 or 3 hours to reach from my home. I remember this so vividly. My Dad and Mom had stopped for us to eat our picnic dinner (that’s mid day meal in the South of my childhood, supper being the evening meal) and my Dad who looked more Mexican than American was chatting with this Cherokee man whose son about my age was playing in a small creek. We looked at each other and it was love at first sight and we immediately “bonded”. We had a marvelous time playing together and we hugged each other and laughed and became completely drenched. Then the dreaded time came when we had to go home. I screamed, and I do remember this, screamed “no” and so did my new found love. My dad had to pick me up and forceably put me in the old 1943 Buick where I continued to wail and lament. My new buddy my new friend my kindred spirit was screaming too and I stood in the seat of the back of the car and watched him until I could not see him any longer and cried myself to sleep.
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