We never know when real love comes our way! Puberty with raging hormones, changes in mood and body creates confusion, and significant changes in behavior, which will shape our future personality. It is a period when we just don’t know what love really means, and who or what needs more attention. Our parents’ influence becomes less and less significant, we fight for an imaginary independence, which in turn creates frictions in the family.
At that point, the level of one’s tenacity is the factor in how far this can be sustained. For parents, the hope for a favorable outcome in this battle is very much dependent on the quality of moral education, and love a child received in the years prior to puberty. In contrast the child’s point of view is different, competitive in nature, a way to break from an ‘old school’ type of world, which is an impediment on their ability to make relevant choices. Everything they could learn from parents is obsolete!?
What I outlined above is just a premise for choices I myself made regarding love partners. As a note, I received a mediocre upbringing, from poorly educated, simple folks. Love in our household was mostly directed towards work, nature, country and alike. I grew up in a small town garden home in the suburbs, surrounded with farm animals and a sizable allotment garden. The importance of choosing a life partner was of little consequence for many of my teenaged years. So as a result I really sucked at it most of my life.
So, now I will tell you the story how I chose a partner as my first love. At the time I didn’t know it is love I feel, but nevertheless it was real for me. It happened well before I reached puberty, as a matter of fact, I wasn’t even ten years old. It struck me early one year when the snow melted, the sun shone longer each day, the trees were in bloom and the aroma of opened-window houses was in the air.
Still a child, I sometimes really resented the chores I had to do, especially when I heard my friends playing outside on the street. This was one of those days and I was asked to get all the eggs from the chicken coop. I was told not to touch the ones under the hen, over and over! Of course I knew that, why do they have to say it all the time? Our chicken were free range, running all over the enclosed backyard and a huge rooster dominated them, and me too…sometimes. He had thick legs like a broomstick, and talons sharp as a knife. I was really afraid of him, so much so that I had to sneak in and out of the enclosure to avoid him. I was teased even into my grownup years for that by my siblings:
-Watch out! The rooster is looking at you! – They did this seeing me standing at the gate waiting for a window of opportunity to have a dash for it.
This day was different in that the dash was successful and got to the coop in time. The hen in the corner was sitting quietly, but this time I heard cute little chirps coming from under her. I almost dropped the eggs in excitement. I always loved watching and caring for our livestock, especially for the young ones. I never had a need for a pet, because we had it all.
Next day the hen showed off her flock, and paraded out with the little ones. Just in case I checked the nest for straggling hatchlings, and sure enough I found one that could barely move. I held and wormed her with my breath until she showed signs of life. Later she could lift her head and looked at me with little button eyes. I kept her in a shoe box overnight besides my bed, wrapped in warm rags and next day she started to feed too. Mom couldn’t believe my success with her saying - ‘it will never survive’!
A significant change in my behavior happened, which was stated by my parents at some occasions. I became over protective of the chick. Nobody could touch her, feed or do anything with her. I even gave her a name ‘Tiny’. My whole day revolved around her, neglected my friends, I had no desire to play with them anymore. No matter where in the yard I was, that’s where Tiny was. We got so close that we were inseparable, and she followed me anywhere. As soon I got home from school Tiny attached herself to me, she knew her name and came every time she was called, by anybody. Whenever I sat she jumped on my lap and patiently waited to be fed. I didn’t mind the occasional poop on my shorts, as far as I’m concerned, we were in love! Was I wrong in my feelings, you be the judge?
She grew ever bigger and soon nobody could distinguish her from other chicken, but the only loving habit she kept is run to meet me every time I showed up at the gate. My resentment Tiny being in the enclosure surfaced when I saw the rooster chasing the chicken all over. I didn’t like it one bit. The rooster’s intrusion in my love life made me angry, and every time I could, tried to stop his aggressive advances, hopping on the back of the poor chicken. I really gave voice of my jealousy to my parents, but they dismissed me saying;
-Chicken just being chicken! Leave them alone! – My feelings were violated. I just couldn’t understand their ignorance.
I was devastated when one day coming from school Tiny didn’t greet me at the gate. I was sure the rooster got to her and she changed allegiance. An attempt for me to keep her identity was to take a desperate measure. -I have to give her a ring, and I did...a nice red plastic ring.
Soon I realized that our affair was short, intense, and I lost Tiny to my archrival, the big bully rooster. Broken hearted I set on a wood pile daily, and watched helpless as she was abused several times a day. My world collapsed around me, and in my frustration I vowed revenge on that Casanova. If I can’t have her, you won’t have her either.
Back then I was a finicky eater. Meat wasn’t my first choice for food. Mom was really puzzled when I suggested that I would really like to try some for a change, and chicken could be one to start. She didn’t give a second thought to my ‘special’ request, because she was getting ready for Sunday feast and chicken soup was on her mind. Interestingly she slaughtered the only chicken that didn’t put up a fight. A little red ring on the table was the only evidence of Tiny's ultimate sacrifice.
I only ate one bite of meat at the time, with tears in my eyes. Happy, because of revenge on the brutal rooster, and sad for Tiny's premature death. Now chicken is still one of my favorites! Wounds have healed and times have past, but the memory stayed with me till this day. Was it love? I don’t know! Most of the signs were there, don’t you think? The infatuation, love, caring, the ring, jealousy, revenge and ultimately the pain of heartbreak when you lose someone. Sounds familiar, don't you think? It may seem trivial in hindsight, but there are lessons to be learned from everything we go through our life, no matter when, how insignificant, big or small.
What is your experience with first love? Anything similar or completely different? Let me know, write, send it to me and I will share it with the world. That is a promise!
Noteworthy Notes 