My first memory of David is one of hatred. I was pretty stressed about the first day of kindergarten, and David didn’t relieve any woes. He shook the heavily-postered walls with his annoying shouts as he barreled through the classroom. David was a nightmare; he flew over chairs and under tables and around people just to make sure he wasn’t tagged. I, a five-year-old with class and dignity, was disgusted by his antics. I didn’t say anything, but I learned how to give a cold stare pretty quickly. As the morning wore on, I felt more and more furious. The way he pressed down on the crayons so hard that they snapped, the way that he interrupted the teacher with useless gibberish, and the way he wiped snot on his sleeve like a heathen made my hair stand up on edge.

I put up with his frolicking until recess, where he was rowdily throwing a Frisbee around a group of fellow kindergarteners who were finishing their lunches. It was too much; he was going to step on someone’s PB&J, and that would be an unforgiveable sin. I stood up, brushed my pants off, and stomped over to him. That bad thing about that plan was that he wasn’t exactly watching where he was going. He ran backwards into me, knocking me onto my butt.

Immediately, I was embarrassed and angry, but I was too shocked to tell him off. He quickly apologized and offered his hand, which I took. As he pulled me up, he crookedly smiled, apologized once more, and ran off. I was flabbergasted by his politeness. The fury in me was gone. It was replaced by butterflies. It was as if I had not fallen onto my buttocks, but onto Cupid’s arrow!

How did I not notice the majesty of him before? David had brown eyes that glinted brightly in the afternoon sun. His dark hair was short, like he had gotten a haircut yesterday. His mom had gelled it up for him so he looked kind of like those guys in Grease, minus the leather jackets. His smile was his best feature. He was already missing two teeth on the right side that were presumably knocked out playing some-sport-or-other, so his grin was really lopsided. He spoke with a faint lisp– not a speech impediment really, but something he would grow out of. He was like no boy I had ever seen! Granted, all I had to compare him to was the thumb-sucking preschool babies of the previous year, but this kid was breathtaking to Kindergarten Me.

Needless to say, I spent the rest of the week planning our wedding.

But I waited to long to make a move, because on Monday the teacher gave the heart-shattering news that my beloved had moved to the far away place of Indianapolis. All of the students in the class signed a card that would be mailed to David in Indiana-land. I signed my name with a heart and a single tear. Our love could never be; everyone knows that long-distance relationships don’t last. This is especially true when you don’t even know his last name.