Love was defined for me by a blue-eyed, blond muscle man. When he looked at me, it was calm, strong, and true. I learned that if I were angry, he still loved me. If I ignored him, he’d come back later. If I rejected him, he would sadly trudge away, coming back again the next day. If I chose someone else, he gave me my space. And, from day one, he made it clear that marrying me was what he wanted to do. Everyone knew. And from my point of view, he was a pest.
We were in the fourth grade.
Sharing Stories 2/22/2021
Frieda Kirk, longtime Washington resident, continues to break hearts…now among those older than 4th grade. This piece was done in response to Ariele’s request for entries for her blog http://fiftyshadesofgraying.blogspot.com/.
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