Carl

the purity of that first preteen love

    I am setting out to write this not knowing how it will turn out. I saw it in my head. I rehearsed it in my mind in the car. The tears flowed as I talked it out - over the music that most people would think impossible to concentrate playing in the background - a constant song in the underneath.
    A couple great movies, such as "Man in the Moon" and "My Girl" come close to hitting the nail on the head as far as the subject of true preteen love goes. But attempting to capture such a magical thing in words, in pictures, is like trying to capture the essence of childhood - we can almost, but not quite, get there. Knowing this, I can only give you a glimpse of what it was to love Carl, and how much it means to me to this day, some 30 odd years later.
    It was grade seven. I was in love/lust with at least a Joey or Jay or two. But it was Carl who captured my heart. Carl was not like the other boys. For one, he was, what the unenlightened 1980s people referred to as a "dwarf". He had difficulty walking, and had several noticeable physical impairments. Carl, however, was a brilliant boy. He had this tremendous light. His sister, a buxom, beautiful senior in our grade 7-10 school, was his rock, his centre. It was amazing to see the two of them together. She loved him like a big mama bear. And because Carl trusted me, she took me into their confidence, and told me the awful story - how when Carl was born he had to undergo surgery after surgery and was not expected to live. How his father walked out because "he didn't sign up for this". And Carl, his mother, and sister became this inseparable, wonderful, perfect family, just those three.
    We were in a musical together, Carl and me. I had a bit part because, quite frankly, I am a pretty good actor, but only a mediocre singer. Carl had one of the lead roles, and he was truly fantastic. He lit up the stage and really stole the spotlight from the other two leads. He started leaving me little notes and things in my locker. He asked me on a date. I talked to my mom about it. It was a really big deal, because I was physically attracted to the Joey's and Jay's, but Carl had wiggled his way into my heart. I loved him, in that pure, innocent, preteen way, that I only felt once, and only with him.
     I wasn't the prettiest girl in school, but I for some reason always had lots of boys chasing me. Imagine their surprise when it was Carl who brought me to the school dance. Carl gave me a little handmade paper flower - I still have it, tucked away in a box of memories. Carl worried he wasn't good enough for me but he stole a kiss anyway. He held my hand. His sister took me under her wing. She could see I really cared for her brother, and that meant a lot to me. Carl taught me, above all else, that it is the inside of a person that you love, and not their outer shell.
     I forgot a lot of things from grade seven, but never Carl. Unfortunately, children are at the mercy of their parent's work transfers at that age, and I had to move away for grade eight. I wrote to Carl, and he wrote to me. Then one day, the letters just stopped. I tried to contact him and found out a horrible, unimaginable thing. He, his mother, and sister were in a terrible car accident. Carl was the only survivor, and his only living relative was his dad. He was shipped off to the east coast to live with the dad who rejected him at birth. The dad he never knew.
     This was pre facebook, internet, etc., remember, and while I tried every method I knew at the time to get a hold of him, I never saw or heard from Carl again. I have tried from time to time to search him out, and came up empty. I assume that due to his physical problems, he probably died. I only hope that he found some joy, some peace, and some love after being dealt such an unjust blow yet again by fickle fate, destiny, God, whatever way you want to phrase it. And I hope, that Carl remembered me the way I remember him.
     And if, by chance, by fate, a forty something Carl stumbles across this piece in a vast sea of internet chatter, Carl, I still hold your flower close to me.

Author's Note

I wrote this in one shot, no edits. If there are mistakes in grammar, point them out, please.

Reviews

[Lucifer Jones]

There are no mistakes when the flow comes from the heart. Time supposedly heals all wounds... Some leave scars that we forever look upon with a vivid memory. Some we can study for hours and only give a shrug... Others we can only view in that cinema in the attic with such a sparkling clarity and emotions running wild. They are the souvenirs that never dull or fade. Beautifully told.

[Lyn Anderson]

Thank you so much. I am sorry I missed this review.

[Coyote Poetry]

A very good story and memory. Funny how some people stay with us. I like how you described life. I did like the sister a lot. I hope you find your friend. Thank you for sharing the excellent story.
Coyote

[Travis Gibson (poetic h..]

Very endearing... the hopeless romantic in me wants to believe Carl is well and maybe, just maybe... he will come across this beautiful piece.

[Lyn Anderson]

I really really hope so.

[Scott Metro]

A beautiful story.
You might have just given Carl the best days of his whole life...

Well done...almost tearful to me....great job.
Scott

[Lyn Anderson]

Thank you very much. I missed these reviews. I think I was popping in and out and posting.

[highonwords]

if this were true, if this really happened in life, this is heartbreaking, thank you for sharing :)

[Lyn Anderson]

It is one hundred percent true. I missed this review. Must have been in a post and dash phase.

[Sue Hart]

How many of us look back to first loves and wonder about them? Are they happy? Would they remember me? This story or memory was so touching. I enjoyed reading it and I hope that Carl finds this somehow and finds a way to reach you.

[Lyn Anderson]

Thank you so much. I missed this review.

[Vidya Bacchus]

People come into our life sometimes for a short time and they leave such an imprint.You have penned this as only you could.:)

[Lyn Anderson]

Thank you very much.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Ok you got me sobbing my heart out. This is so beautiful it just cannot be fiction. You have an amazing soul KLG!

[Lyn Anderson]

It is not fiction. It is me, weeping, in a puddle, attempting to uncover the even sadder and scarier thing I want to write about it, peeling it back, layer by layer.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

You are right about Leslie he is a great poet who is also a sensitive, creative man. Your story is so beautiful is deserves to be really told KLG

[Leslie Philibert]

This is a fine piece, and when you speak of a background in journalism, then I believe you. For example, you don`t rush in to the story but start the narrative in the third paragraph. This convines, is well written. Congratulations on an excellent piece.

[Lyn Anderson]

I take that as a great compliment, coming from a thoughtful and articulate writer such as yourself. It is really the build up for a much more difficult piece I want to write.