As a little girl, I loved to watch romantic movies. From Pillow Talk to Runaway Bride to The Little Mermaid, I enjoyed seeing people find their perfect match in unexpected ways and wondered when and where I would meet the man of my dreams. I can still vividly remember asking God, “Please, Lord, give me a story.” You see, I wanted a real-life love story of my own to tell. But, of course, I never really considered that every good love story has a little heartbreak in the middle…
It was March of 1996. I was in the third grade, and my dad’s job uprooted our family from West Texas to Southwestern Kansas. My first day of school in a new state was nerve-racking. Will they like me? Who will I talk to, eat lunch with, or play with on the playground? You know, serious nine-year-old stuff. I remember what I was wearing on that first day… a sleeveless, blue, floral dress. I remember the walk from my classroom to the playground. And I remember him. Standing on the soccer field, he was the cutest, most desireable boy I had ever seen. I immediately wanted to know what his name was and if he had a girlfriend. (He did, by the way. Rats..) After school, my mom and aunt (who we lived with at the time) asked about my first day. All I could think to tell them was, “I saw the cutest boy I have ever seen in my life. His name is Tyler.”
It took less than a week, and Tyler was no longer someone else’s boyfriend. (That’s right. I snagged him quick.) We would talk on the phone, ride bikes, fight like siblings, and play like best friends. He was my first kiss, my first love, and I was fully convinced he would one day be my husband. So when my dad came home 21 months later with the news that we were moving back to West Texas, I was devastated. Leaving Kansas? I could handle that. Leaving Tyler? My heart broke in a million pieces.
On December 19, 1997, (Yes, I still remember.) I walked out of Hugoton Elementary for the last time. Standing near the bus stop, I searched desperately to find Tyler. I needed to give him one last hug goodbye, but he was nowhere to be found. Apparently, he went home early, because he felt sick at his stomach. I begged my parents, “Please go to his house. I have to see him!” We pulled up to his drive. I got out and rang the doorbell, but the tears would not stop rolling down my face. His dad answered the door, then led me down the hallway to his room. Tyler seemed careless, as if it didn’t matter that I was moving seven hours away, but I hugged him hard and headed out the door.
It was a long drive back to Texas. I was bawling my eyes out when I stated emphatically, “I was going to marry him!” My mother’s response was unwittingly prophetic. “If it’s meant to be, Kaime, it will be.”
Well, like any young love that’s lost, time rolls along, the pain weakens, and the memories start to fade. Then one day in the ninth grade, I was instant messaging a friend from Kansas who told me gutwrenching news. Tyler wasn’t in Hugoton anymore; his family had moved far away. I remember the rush of emotions. I’ll never see him again, I thought. The familiar stream of tears gushed down my cheeks, and my heart ached like it hadn’t since that day in December 1997.
In high school, I was consumed with my social life, soccer, and other boys. But, for some reason, no matter how much I tried, I could never settle into a serious relationship with anyone. Every boy that tried to get closer than arms length was quickly axed out of my life. I would find little flaws that seemed impossible to overcome, and my mom was concerned that my “heartbreaker” tendencies would cost me real love. “But,” I defended, “I really did love Tyler. I mean, as much as a nine year old could love someone, I loved him.” It was true. I couldn’t get too close to anyone, because I was subconsciously comparing my feelings for them to my feelings for him. I mean, they needed to at least exceed those of an elementary school love, right? Right. I was hopeful that college would be the place that would happen.
The summer after high school graduation was full of transitions. My older sister was getting married, and I was the maid of honor. Fatefully, her other bridesmaids were girls she had befriended during our short time in Kansas. What’s more, one of them brought her little sister, who was my friend, as her wedding date. (Now it’s important to note that by this time, I had already shifted plans from Texas A&M to nowhere, Nebraska — a story I’ve shared in a previous post.) When I mentioned this to my Hugoton friend, she replied, “Oh! That’s really close to where Tyler lives.” Could our paths cross again? There were butterflies at the thought.
To be continued…
