I just had the sweetest poem written about me! And it got me thinking about the first boy who ever wrote me poetry.
So I am resurrecting my Emily Childhood Stories™ just to tell you about it.
When I was in 9th grade, I felt so out of place. I didn’t like being in high school, I didn’t like the house we lived in, and worst of all our school was zoo-level crazy because it was so overcrowded at the main high school that they shoved all of the 9th graders into one of the local middle schools with almost no governance or oversight whatsoever. I pretty much did not like anything that year except my new friend Shaun.
Shaun had this other friend on our bus named Richard who was sort of weird. He was really quiet for the most part, except sometimes he’d get all riled up about saving the environment or whatever his other causes of the week were. He was kind of cute, with his long red hair and his freckles, but the stuff he talked about went way over everyone else’s heads for the most part.
Well, one Saturday I was at home in my room when my stepdad Dave came and got me. Which was unusual in and of itself, because Dave almost never spoke to me or acknowledged my existence, never mind came into my room like that. He told me there was someone at the front door for me.
So I went out onto our porch and opened the door. Standing in front of me was Richard.
Now, Richard was more Shaun’s friend than mine. He and I barely spoke. I had no idea he even knew where I lived.
To add one more shocking thing to an ever-growing list of progressively larger shocks to my system on that spring Saturday afternoon, he held up a piece of paper with a shaking hand… and started reading me a poem. A love poem, that he had written about me. And that he was now reading outside, in front of all of the neighbors. When I barely knew him, except as Shaun’s weird friend.
I wish I could say that I melted in his arms like he was no doubt hoping I would, and we became some sort of fairy tale couple forever after.
Instead I was so confused that all I could do was stare at him.
I don’t even remember the poem at all, like I don’t think I it registered I was so rattled by everything.
All I knew was this boy from my bus was embarrassing me by coming to my house out of nowhere and doing this, and on top of that, while my parents were home, especially my stepdad who silently judged me for pretty much everything I did up to and including breathing.
I don’t remember what I said after Richard finished his poem. I just wanted to get away from him, wanted him to get away from me.
I do remember shutting the door and wanting to die, because I knew my mom was going to ask me what was up with that, and I didn’t know what to say. Because I didn’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to forget the whole thing happened, and curl up somewhere and cry about it.
I look back and feel terrible for my reaction. I’m sure I hurt Richard terribly too. But I was only 15 years old, and I was a young 15 too. Like, I had never had a boyfriend at that point or anything.
I didn’t know what I was doing.
And I know that doesn’t make it better.
The truth is, I don’t think there’s anything either of us could have done to make the situation better. It was like it was this perfectly executed intersection of everything going wrong for both of us.
And to this day it’s one of the biggest regrets I have, that I broke that poor kid’s heart that day without meaning to.
