And a Love Story About a Box of Crayons
His name is erased from my memory, but I’ll never forget his crayons. Let’s call my first grade love, David. He had big brown eyes and the chivalry of a knight. He sat across from me in our first-grade room. One day our class was coloring pictures for our teacher.
The girl beside me held her picture next to mine. “You can’t color the flower stem brown. See?” She shook her picture in front of my face. “Flower stems are green.”
Miss Artist crushed my first-grade feelings. Like a knight with his sword, David took his box of 64 crayons and slid the alluring colors past Miss Artist to me. “You can have my crayons. Color the flower stem any color you want.”
David’s chivalry swept me away.