Rachel

I don't know why, but the thought of what has officially become my first love has been tip-toeing it's way through my head, opening doors to places it's never been, hiding in closets where I keep most of my junk and uncrystallized dreams.

I met Rachel in the fifth grade, we were ten years old. She had wavey hair and that poof up front that all the girls in the eighties had, like they'd been standing on the side of the curb, and a semi-truck just came blazing right past them.

I didn't know beauty, cute, or attractive, I just knew she was special, and I was utterly drawn to her. When we reached junior high, and my generation matured a bit, my crush developed into a desire, a need, but it was one that I never acted upon; to this day I've never considered myself the most attractive person in the world, so back then, I was pretty much Quasimodo's uglier little brother.

Then, we made it to high-school, and I didn't want to call it love, but I did know she was intelligent, and by this time, I'd come to know what beauty was, and it was Rachel. She had tanned skin, not too dark, just a shade above happy sand, and her hair was dark, and typically, that's enough for me, I'm floored, but she was great to talk to, and we always had things to talk about with one another. I guess she had a boyfriend, but by that time I placed my feelings towards any type of relationship second to learning music, and experiencing life in general; wild trips, knowing drugs, booze, and yet I graduated a Texas Scholar. I don't get it.

We parted ways before graduation, our high-school split into two factions and we were now worlds apart. She was at the school where weed was the fun junk of choice, I was at the school where cocaine was served with the cafeteria cereal.

I ran into her about three years ago, and at first glance I was ten years old, and we started talking, and I was in love again. I had never known it, but I was because it was at that moment when I knew that if I had acted upon my feelings, if I'd just had one chance, then, to this day, she and I would still be together. I would have never let her go, and never given her a reason to sweep me aside.

She's married to a military guy, and has a son. I asked her if she was happy. With her current situation, yes, but in all, no. I haven't seen her since. It's probably best that I don't. I can't go back to the past other than to learn from it. I've learned from Rachel.

Meanwhile, a man's brain miraculously rewires itself after nineteen years (I love this stuff).

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