It was the kind of love that was sweet and simple. It came out of nowhere and served as my introduction to love. It wouldn’t last, after all, it was a high-school love. A first-love. The love of teenagers. The kind of love that paves the way for all those to come.
I was young and complicated and somehow falling in love with a boy, one who was different. A boy like none of the others I’d entertained. A boy who didn’t share the same grade-level, the same circle of friends, or the same extra-curricular activities.
I became captivated by his romance, charm, and the way he was invested in me. He put in effort and made his interest known. He was cute. He was kind. And with one quick bus ride kiss, he would become my boyfriend.
We would fall in love quickly. A childish, simple, affectionate kind of love. The love of the naive. The love of youth and simplicity. We had something that required little effort and it felt good. His hand fit mine and his kiss sent a surge of adrenaline. We enjoyed each other’s company and heart.
He was my introduction to love. The boy that would give love a definition and an example. The one that would set the bar for all those to follow. The boy that would teach me what love felt like and what love entailed.
I knew it was love, and danced on the hope of it lasting, yet held the competency to know that it wouldn’t. Eventually, the relationship faded. But the lessons of that love always stayed with me. It served as a guideline and ranking scale for the love and relationships to come. It served as my rubric for romance.
I knew if I had something great as a teenager, I could find something bordering perfection as an adult. I knew if love had felt this good before, it would feel even better when it was deep, and pure, and experienced.
I was right. When authentic, true, life-altering love found me, it was easy to recognize. My first-love taught me that. It taught me the feeling of butterflies. It taught me the feeling of adoration. And then, my husband, my love of a lifetime, taught me “weak knees”, mature, never-ending, “can’t live without each other” love.
One love for learning, and one for a lifetime.
I’m thankful for both of them.
A wife, mother and educator who has Indiana roots and a passionate spirit. Chelsea is a sappy romantic, coffee junkie, book collector, and person who wears her heart on her sleeve. She’s sarcastic, full of jokes, full of tears, and enjoys writing most when life gets messy or complicated. In 2017, Chelsea's mother passed away. Through her grief journey, she decided to take her mother’s advice and share her writing with the world. One day she gained the courage to honor her mother's wishes and write. It turned out to be one of the best decisions she's ever made.