My First Love

When I was six years old, I lived with my grandparents. It was summertime, and therefore I was not in school. For reasons I no longer remember, I got into the habit of going to one of the front windows of the house in the morning after breakfast and slipping between the curtains and the window and staring out onto the street. My grandfather usually sat in a big armchair by the other front window and stared out onto the street as well. I could well have been imitating him.

One morning, as I was staring away, a beautiful little girl, about my age, appeared in one of the windows of the house across the street, and she too was staring out. Very quickly we noticed each other and started staring at each other for long periods of time.

This staring business was strange. I had never done anything like it before, and it was also wordless. We just stood and stared at each other for long stretches of time. I fell madly in love with her doing that. She was very pretty and seemed to be as interested in me as I was in her. My idea that she was interested in me, based on her long vigil by the window returning my stare, was part of what fueled my love, since I believed that her reciprocal staring meant she loved me as well. We loved each other and it was wonderful, in spite of the fact that we never, ever, uttered a word to each other.

Another problem complicating this love affair was that I never saw her anyplace but in the window. We kids in the neighborhood played with each other in our respective yards, and often after dinner and as the long summer evenings settled in and there was no more auto traffic, we played exciting games of Kick the Can on the street right in front of her house and socialized for what seemed like hours. However, the love of my life never appeared for any of these activities, even though I had my eye out for her.

One summer morning I took my place at the window, and she didn't appear. I was severely disappointed. I didn't know what

had happened. The next m