Memories of a First Crush at Fifteen

The love, unspoken, kept to oneself, but still savored, translated…

In the Hakka villages, the highest level of education was only to the middle school years, I’d followed the older girl in my neighborhood, rode the busses, into the city to study in high school. The bus, from the terminal stations, picked up the students, stop, by stop, and the bus would start and stop, with the students getting on and off, I became like a country kid who’d gone to the cities for the first time, watched close, at the frames that passed me by through the bus windows. In the past, I’d only received red envelopes for the New Year’s, and now, I could, “head into town” for high school, I was, so very, happy about it.

After a few days of the exact same sceneries, I’d become tired, the excitement from the expectations went away, I’d looked around me, there were, students who had their eyes closed, resting, and there were those, who were, reciting the English vocabulary terms. Yeah sure, it’s a one-and-a-half-hour ride to school, what else is there to do, other than, catching some Z’s?

But, I’d always feared I’d drooled in my sleep, and that there were, so many boys on the bus, if they’d caught me like that, however will I, pass through the next three years of life? Thinking about it, it’d made me, teary-eyed. At which time I’d, lowered my head, a pair of black shoes polished to shine, with two pant legs ironed, to perfection stole my attention away. I’d moved my gazes upward, passed, over the Adam’s apple, there was, a youthful face underneath that hat, like a rooster, growing into being, he was, so shiny I couldn’t, keep my eyes opened, just to look at him.

not my photograph…

My heart went pitter-patter, I started blushing then, my heart raced, ahhhhhhhhhhh, so this, was what it felt like, to feel moved by someone, like butterflies, turning, inside my stomach.

And every day after that, I’d expected when he’d gotten on, and saw him off, and, without the guts to talk to him, I could only, stare at him from behind; and every now and then, our eyes would meet, and, in a panic, I’d, lowered my head, stared hard, at my textbook, slowly counted from one to ten, made sure that my heart had calmed itself down, then, I’d, stolen another gaze at him. From the start of autumn, to the depth of winter, from spring, into the summers, he graduated, and the two parallel lines flew off in separate directions. The goings-on of the bus ride through the entire year, that arousal that can’t be, duplicated, because clear like crystals.

getting on a bus to school…NOT my photo…

So, this guy doesn’t even know you liked him, because you were too scared, too shy, to tell him so, and, you’d enjoyed this sort of a small game that you were playing, and that, is the first taste of love…


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