Writing is like being able to put life into a snow globe. It takes the things that are too big and scary and reduces them into a form that I can put away when I want and look at from a distance. It also takes all that’s good in life and captures it into something I can take out when I want and look at close up and keep forever. It makes the bad things into something I can hold…and the good things into something I can hold onto. Both help so much that I need that little souvenir of life.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

A Story of Young Love

He was my first husband.

We married on the church steps. My friend Chris was the minister. He kissed me—on the lips—and everyone giggled, including me. He gave me a ring that turned my finger green. I gave him a lock of my hair.

He was the new kid in a school that rarely got new kids. He was tall and handsome and exotic.

One day his mother came to school. She was statuesque and graceful, like a dancer. She picked him up and he left. I never saw him again.

I grieved. Anger is a part of grief, so I angrily buried the ring in my backyard. He hadn’t even said goodbye. Later, when I had moved on to the acceptance stage, I tried to dig it up again. I couldn’t find it. So I grieved over that, too. Honestly, I sort of still do.

And now, as an adult and a mother, I have to wonder what made his mother leave so quickly. And I grieve now for her...maybe most of all.

Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle in their journey.
Thank God and them for the opportunity to walk this leg of their journey with them.~Anonymous


  1. Hi Tammy - Sweet, and then bittersweet, and ultimately thought provoking. Now I shall wonder and grieve for her, too.

  2. Tammy,
    This has to be the preface to your BOOK! This is achingly beautiful.

  3. Tammy, such a sweet and sad story. I wonder what became of them? Have you ever tried to find out? No, maybe not, eh. The teenage "love of my life" lives in Lousiana now. I suppose I have never looked him up because I want to remember him the way he was when we were young!

  4. Lovely story of first love, first loss. Very well done!



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