The very ultimately first love I can remember is of a boy at kindergarten. I used to chase him around the playground begging him to be mine and when we had naps, me and my friend would lie on either side of him holding his hands.

One day I asked him for a photograph and I think I held on to that picture for ten years. Not because I always loved him, but because it was the first love. The first boy I really loved.

There isn’t much to say about it because I don’t remember much about it except that I was jealous when he played with my friend and I wanted him to play with me instead. I suppose many people wont call that a love because you are too young to understand the concept, but I believe love exists without understanding and what I felt for him sure enough was love.

Why else would I still remember his name, now twenty years later?

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