The boys next door By Jacquelyn Waller-Vintar
My first love was Matthew McCann. But he was in a dead heat for my heart with Brian Anstead. You could say it was my first love triangle at the tender age of six. Brian lived directly behind my home. Through well-worn but well-hidden gaps in the fragrant lilac trees, bleeding hearts and forsythia bushes, we had instant access to each other. We made complex mud pies together, tortured helpless insects, played in the sandbox, dodged my younger siblings and hoarded our Halloween candy. He had a supershort haircut and lots of freckles. It was definitely love, but friend love.
Then I started grade school, where I met Matthew. He was so cute with his blond hair, tanned skin and scrapped knees. Matthew gave me chocolate bars at recess, and he and Brian vied for my attention in class with spitball contests and by pulling off my hair ribbons. They even made a contest out of which of them would eat my banana peel. Now that's chivalry.
Then at the end of Grade 2, the unthinkable happened. My family moved into a new house that my
parents had been building, and Matthew was going to a different school. I felt abandoned by the two most important men in my life.
The social life of a Grade 2 girl being what it was back then, there were no phone calls, e-mail exchanges or Mummy-chauffeured playdates. That summer in my new house was a no-man's-land, which provided lots of time for youthful reflection. What did I take from that first brush with love won and lost? That love at first glance can last three years, boys can be friends and boyfriends, I can survive the departure of any male from my life, and chocolate is definitely the way to my heart.
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