FIRST LOVE (First of a Series)

“The whisper of first love was faint and pale,
Undefined, undefiled, raw feelings unearthed;
The boy whose eyes were fixed on another girl’s gait,
Was a friend, my hero, my constant mate.

Friendship kindled in the summer sun,
Secret hopes and wishes shared in glorious fun;
My best friend, my joy, silently he would pine,
For somebody else’s embrace, painfully, not mine….”


E. was my closest male friend in my childhood days. A typical boy-next-door, with an athletic built (at eleven, he gave boys older than him a hard time on the court) and a captivating smile, E. could effortlessly win any girl’s attention. Unlike boys his age, E. was quite neat (how he hated having stains on his white shirt!) and knew how to talk to girls with charm and aplomb.

Every summer morning, after having completed my assigned household chores, I would go out to play piko, patintero, and the improvised version of “football” (where one, after kicking a plastic ball rolled by the pitcher of the opposite team, had to run three bases before going back to the homebase) with kids my age. In most instances, E. will be there playing too, if not happily cheering from the sidelines. Our playtime usually extended to noon, to be interrupted only by mother’s call for lunch, and would resume late afternoon, after having taken our routine siesta.

Once fatigue and exhaustion set in, we would stop and contentedly settle ourselves in the most comfortable nook in the street at that particular time of day. This could be a friend’s patio, or the vacant lot adjacent to our house, or the pavement near the road’s dead-end. Time was killed by stories, and sharing of thoughts and dreams. These moments were usually broken only by the presence of my girl friend D.

Even at a tender age, D. already exuded charm which complemented her flawless fair skin and bedimpled smile. Her comely presence was a perfect contrast to my chubby and boyish mien. No wonder every boy on the street, E. included, would sigh as she smiled at them.

E. was my constant companion in rough games, in which D. never participated. Already lady-like then, D. never smelled of sweat, and never went out of their house while the sun was up. No hair strand was out of place and her shirt always matched the color of her shorts. She would only huddle with us for one hour at most, and would always be home before Angelus.

Without E. telling me, I could sense that he liked D. He enjoyed my company, but he looked forward to D.’s calming presence at the day’s end. At a very young age, I felt – but didn’t understand - the first throes of insecurity and confusion…..

(To be continued….)