Day By Day, Life Goes On

I still remember my first crush.

We were both only nine.

He lived across the street.

Such a simple boy.

In from California.

With his mother for the summer.

We played with trucks.

In his driveway.

Or with toys.

In his attic.

I never brought him to my home.

With my abusive father.

That would have driven him away.

I loved his scent.

Clean. Cool.

Against the hot stickiness of summer.

I loved his looks.

Dark hair across tan skin.

I loved his accent.

The funny words coming out of his cute mouth.

Mostly.

I hated when I left him.