Always enough time…

“Imagine me and you. I do! I think about you every night. It’s only right!” *

(375/431 words, 2 minutes read time.)

>~~~~~OOO~~~~~<

We can sneak out, like really late, after dark, when there’s no school the next day, and then meet somewhere. Maybe at one of our secret places. The attic, or even better, up in our treehouse. We could hurl kumquats at the mean yappy dog next door from up there. Who would know?

We might sneak away somewhere with flashlights, like to the fort we built in the woods. It’s not that far. We could talk about our secrets without whispering, even act out our dreams in private. We could even make plans for when we’re older. Like for when we’re in high school, or maybe even college. We can hope that by then we won’t be too old to be married. Or, like you say, when we just live together… in sin!

Well, no! Maybe not in sin. Even better, maybe in Love! Just like I think we are now. Like I know we are now, but you’re afraid. You’re afraid to admit we are in love. You think we’re too young. But I think we both know in our hearts that love is growing there. It may take time, but you’ll see. You’ll know for sure soon enough.

We should kiss first. But not right now, not this instant. Not here, where other kids might see. They won’t know, they can’t understand. They might talk. So… maybe we should wait a little longer. Wait for some secret rainy day. Some romantic rainy day.

Or, even better, wait for some stormy afternoon when we can sneak into your parents’ den and hide. Say that we’re drying out after a cloudburst. Find ourselves playing house under a folding card table, left out and covered with a bedsheet for just such play. Your mom might bring us cookies and milk, maybe even hot chocolate.

We could have fun. Maybe kiss there. First time… ever. In secret. In private. Out of sight. Unseen for now, and for a while.

It’s much more likely, however, that we’ll find ourselves playing Milton Bradley’s Operation, or building a cabin with Lincoln Logs and defending it from rolling marbles with a platoon of Plastic Army Men.

I would probably end up playing Barbie’s, or maybe even with your Trolls, or imagining a tea party just so I could play with you. Afterall, that was all that truly mattered to me back then. And it still does.

*Alan Gordon and Garry Bonner (Happy Together)

-dalton

7-9-26