My 12-year old son recently shared his 7th grade yearbook with me, so I pulled out one of mine from a box in the basement.
As I flipped through, I remembered that in 1982, a guy named Tad* was a major theme.
“Who’s Tad?” Tech’s eyebrows arched.
“Just a boy I liked.”
My son saw people wishing me luck with Tad.
He also saw a disproportionate number of people leaving me ominous messages, warning me to be careful.
• • •
Gigi is one of my most favorite bloggers, and back in May she asked a bunch us to imagine spending the entire summer at a remote cabin on the beach with a bunch of girlfriends. We were supposed to picture ourselves, in the evenings, gathered around a bonfire, maybe with a glass of wine, sharing in great conversation and the exchange of ideas.
I’m closing comments here today in hopes that you will follow me to the bonfire where I’ll tell you about the first boy to gut my heart.
I’ll be waiting for you.
*Author’s Note: While this story is true, it should be noted that the guy I liked was not named Tad.